


Raising a Water Ghoul

by savorvrymoment



Series: Ghost, Ghoul Universe [2]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Minor Character Death, No Incest, Parent-Child Relationship, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorvrymoment/pseuds/savorvrymoment
Summary: Air loses his beloved Mate of over six-hundred years on June 29th, 1946.‘One more child,’ she’d said.  ‘Just one more.’  And there were a million reasons why it was a bad idea, their age being only one.  But he could remember the two little ones they’d had in earlier times—a strong-willed air ghoul and a zealous water ghoulette.  The ghoul had been taken down in his youth during the holy wars, and the water ghoulette had disappeared during a mission, never to return home.‘Give me another child.  Please…’ she’d said.  And Air had been unable to deny her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm throwing this in a collection with my most recent fic, because I'm pretty much writing with the same headcanon. But you definitely don't have to read one to understand the other. I'll be adding more character and relationship tags as we go forward. Hope you enjoy!

Air loses his beloved Mate of over six-hundred years on June 29th, 1946. 

‘One more child,’ she’d said.  ‘Just one more.’  And there were a million reasons why it was a bad idea, their age being only one.  But he could remember the two little ones they’d had in earlier times—a strong-willed air ghoul and a zealous water ghoulette.  The ghoul had been taken down in his youth during the holy wars, and the water ghoulette had disappeared during a mission, never to return home.

‘Give me another child.  Please…’ she’d said.  And Air had been unable to deny her.

He regrets it, though, as he watches her hemorrhage during the birth, her eyes rolling back up in her head and her body going still.  He cries out in horror, winds whipping up around them in the clinic, his powers brought out by his own panic and despair.  The nurse sisters yell at him, one of them pushing hard at his shoulders to get him to leave the room.  But he doesn’t relent—he struggles and screams and claws back at her—until he feels it…

The sudden emptiness.  Nothingness.  The pair-bond broken.

“No pulse!” one of the sisters says, her hand at his ghoulette’s neck.

“Get the child out of her!” another sister yells, while Air slumps weakly to the floor, eyes sliding closed.

“And do something with the ghoul!  He’s in the way…”

~*~

A week passes by.

Air stays in his nest— _used to be **their** nest_ —and only leaves the bed to relieve himself.  He does not go and tend to his duties as he should.  He does not go to the kitchens for food, does not eat.  He barely drinks, only does so on the occasions a nurse sister threatens to force a tube down his throat if he does not drink himself…

Otherwise, he lies in his bed and waits for death, so that he may be joined with his Mate once again.

But then the door to his room opens after a week has passed, and a new sister nurse lets herself inside, one he has not seen before.  She meets his apathetic stare with a gentle smile, cradling a small, gurgling bundle close to her chest.  And it’s truly a testament to just how wrecked he is that he doesn’t recognize what the woman is obviously holding, until the smell hits him…

_Ghoul-kin.  Infant.  Water magic.  My own blood._

No one had told him the babe had survived.  He’d simply assumed it had not.  And now?  Part of him wants to send it away.   _I can’t do this.  I’ve been on this earth for over a thousand years.  Don’t lay this burden on me.  Let me go be with my love…_

“I thought you might want to see your baby,” the sister says, stepping up by the bed and angling the little bundle in her arms so that Air can see.  Air clenches his eyes shut for a moment, not wanting to see it, before he breaks.

“I didn’t know it was… was still alive,” he says, voice catching as he looks at his child and finds himself staring into _her_ eyes.  His child looks back up at him from the sister’s arms, blinking big blue-green eyes, identical to his Mate’s.

“Oh, no,” the sister says, shaking her head.  “I’m sorry, I thought—I would have come sooner if I’d known no one had told you.  I just thought maybe you needed some time, you know, after…”

Air doesn’t comment on this, just stares at his child, dazed by the sight. 

“He’s a baby boy,” the sister says, looking down at the babe and rocking him in her arms.  “A Water ghoul.  He has the mark on his wrist, the left one, on the inside.”

 _Water ghoul.  Like my beloved Water Ghoulette._ The baby blinks a few times, then burbles and squirms in the sister’s arms.  Air swallows dryly, pushing himself up to sit.  “Is he healthy?” he asks.  “Has he been doing well?”

“Healthy as can be.  Ten fingers, ten toes, both horn ridges and a tail bump.  And ‘fully intact’,” she says with a small giggle.  Then, “And he’s been a treat.  All he wants to do is eat, sleep, and cuddle.  I’ve been taking care of him—he’s been a dream compared to some of the other’s I’ve dealt with.”

“Mmm,” Air mumbles, reaching a hand out to touch the child’s face.  The babe turns his head at the last moment, nipping at Air’s fingers, but it’s some time before any teeth will come in.  Air can’t help but grin as the baby gums at his knuckles, a pantomime of play-biting as any adult ghoul would do. 

“Yeah, he started with that yesterday,” the sister says.  “He’s not being mean though, like some of them do.  He’s just wants to play.”

And Air certainly doesn’t need to be told that—he’s been around enough youngsters in his long life to know the difference between playfulness and meanness.  And it doesn’t surprise him.  His other two offspring had been mild, easy-natured.  Water ghouls typically are, anyway—prone to moods, highs and lows like the tides, but not overt aggressiveness or violence unless provoked. 

And his sweet Ghoulette had been nothing if not typical Water. 

Air stares at his child for several more long moments, before asking, “Let me hold him?”

The sister nods, smiling knowingly.  Air suddenly realizes that this had been her plan all along, to get him back up by offering him the child, but finds he doesn’t even care that he’s being manipulated.  He eases his fingers out of the baby’s mouth, and then accepts him when the sister hands him over. 

He cradles him close to his chest, smiling as the babe gurgles and coos at him, quiet baby noises.  He unwraps him from his blankets briefly, just long enough to get a full look at him, mindful of the slight chill.  But he wants to be sure that he truly _is_ healthy—birth defects are so common amongst their kind due to the curse, and getting three healthy children from his pair-bond seems almost too much to ask. 

But the child is just as the sister said: perfect and healthy.  Little chubby arms and thighs.  A slightly elongated coccyx that will grow into a tail in the years to come.  An upside-down triangle imprinted on the inside of his wrist.  Normal male genitalia.  And two tiny bumps on his frontal skull, where his horns will eventually come through. 

“The clergy told me to let you know that…” she sister begins.  “That you may be excused from your duties for the next several years to care for him, until he starts his schooling.  If you so choose.”

And Air has no choice now, he has held his child in his arms.  He nods, wrapping the baby back up in his blankets, secure and warm.  “Of course,” he answers.

“In a few days,” the sister says, motioning for him to give her his child back.  “Once you’ve been up and taken care of yourself.  Eaten a few square meals.  Had plenty to drink…  _Bathed_.”

Air chuckles.  “Fair enough.”

The baby snuffles softly as he’s handed back to the sister, obviously about to cry.  Air’s heart breaks.  _He can feel that we’re blood-kin_ , he thinks.  _And he doesn’t understand why he has to leave._   He shushes him quietly, reaching out one last time to lay his hand on the child’s fuzzy head. 

“You’ll be back soon,” he tells him.  “Promise.”

“It’s almost time for him to be fed,” the sister says, trying to be consoling.  “He’s probably just getting hungry.”

“Mmm,” Air mumbles.  “Then go.”

“Okay,” the sister says with a nod.  Then, in a sing-song to the baby as she turns to leave, “We’ll be back soon, won’t we, little Water?  We’ll be back before you even know it…”

And after the door has shut behind them, Air stands from the bed with intent for the first time since his Mate’s death.  He needs to bathe, and get something to eat, perhaps have a walk around the grounds this evening.  Get some fresh air so that he can begin again. 

There is someone waiting for him who needs him. 

~*~

It’s strange sometimes, how quickly the times passes.

It seems one moment, Air is warming bottles, and changing nappies, and holding the baby close while the baby sleeps.  He knows perfectly well he can put him down in the bassinet, but often prefers to simply cradle little Water to his chest while he reads, or walks the grounds, or sits in the garden watching the earth ghouls work.  Several of the earth ghoulettes take to him quickly, and come to faun over him whenever he passes through.  Granted, little Water seems to love the attention. 

Though it seems the next moment, Air is feeding him crushed fruits and veggies, and teaching him to use the washroom, and watching him like a hawk as he begins to sleep in his own bed on the other side of the nest.  His teeth begin to come in, and his tail begins to grow, both of which Air knows are painful.  He makes sure he always has a cold teething ring and ice for his rear-end available, if the little one needs them. 

Still, he is an easy and happy child, and doesn’t whine or cry—at least, not until his fangs start to come though.  But then the canines are the worst of the teething, so Air’s not really surprised.  It’s still heartbreaking when he gets woken up in the middle of the night, though, Water snuffling quietly at the edge of his bed, blood on his lips where the tip of a fang has pierced his gum.  Air doesn’t say anything, just brushes the child’s sleep-tousled mess of hair out of his face and gets his teething ring out of the ice box.  When he pulls him up into the bed alongside himself, Water chews viciously at the ring, tears still in his eyes, and so Air holds him against his chest and hums an old lullaby until they both fall asleep. 

Water begins repeating words and phrases that he hears from Air soon enough—which is not all that good, as Air tends to go from Italian to Swedish to English without much thought.  When he realizes the child is intermixing various words from all three languages, seemingly confused by the difference, he focuses on trying to speak Italian at all times. 

The child settles on calling him _Pap_ _à_ eventually, as opposed to the English or Swedish equivalents.  It’s what his other two offspring had called him for most of their lives, only using Dad or _Far_ occasionally, and the whole thing breaks him after only a week. 

He sits on the bench in the garden, watching as Water toddles around with one of the earth ghoulettes and digs in the dirt, and is very abruptly overcome.  Tears well in his eyes and spill over his cheeks, and he buries his face in his hands to hide his emotion.  “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, almost silent, knowing who he is talking to even if she is not there to hear him.  “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ …”

“ _Papà?_ ”  And damn, the child is too intuitive for his own good.  He could probably feel Air’s mood from across the garden.  Air wipes his eyes quickly, and smiles down at Water while the child digs barely-there claws into his thigh.  “ _Pap_ _à_ sad?” the child asks, frowning.

“No,” Air says, shaking his head, even as his voice breaks on the word.  “No, _Pap_ _à_ is happy.”

Water continues to frown, dubious, and curls his claws even harder into Air’s thigh.  And Air has never spoken to the child about his mother, but Water is three-years-old now.  Old enough to be given a brief explanation, he supposes.  “I was thinking about your _Mamà_ ,” he says.

Water’s frown deepens.  “ _Mamà_?” he asks.

“Mmm,” Air says.  “She is not here, and I miss her sometimes.”  _All the time._

“Not here?” Water asks, which is what Air had been expecting.  “Why not here?”

“Sometimes, ghouls and ghoulettes have to leave here, even if we don’t want them to,” Air says.  “We might miss them, but we remember them.  And we love them.  Always.”

“You loved _Mamà_?” he asks. 

And he doesn’t know about pair-bonds yet, is far too young.  So Air just nods, and says, “Yes.  I love her still.  Very much.”

Water grins a bit, and Air thinks for the umpteenth time that the child understands far too much, more than Air probably realizes.  “ _Mamà_ happy?” he asks.

And yes, he understands far too much.  “Yes, she is,” he says.  And he has been to worship and sermons, has sat with the sisters and watched while Air played the organ and piano, so…  “She gets to spend time with our Dark Creator.  So I think she is very happy.”

Water smiles big, his halfway-there canines flashing.  Air’s heart melts. 

He leans down and kisses the child’s forehead, and murmurs quietly, “I love you.”

“Love you,” Water answers, hugging his leg.  Then, with all the innocence of a child, he asks, “I go play again?”

Air chuckles, and corrects, “ _Can_ I go play again?”

Water sighs, sounding very put-upon.  “Can I go play again?”

“Yes, of course,” Air says, ruffling his hair, and then wipes his eyes again once Water turns back to the ghoulettes, his small tail waving behind him as he toddles away.  And he can’t help but offer it up one last time, a silent prayer…

_Thank you, my love.  He is perfect in every way.  Thank you…_

~*~

Just three moments later—or years, rather, but they feel like blips in time—and Water is getting fitted for a small cassock and fascia and mask.  He’ll start schooling with the sisters soon, to learn his letters and his numbers.  Granted, he can already read and write simple words in Italian, and can do easy arithmetic, add and subtract single and double digits.  Not only is the child sensitive and intuitive, but he’s turning out to be quick and clever, too. 

Apparently, he takes after both mother _and_ father.

“Be good,” Air tells him that first morning.  And he can tell the child is scared, can see it in those big blue-green eyes.  _Her eyes_.  “Do what the sisters tell you.”

And he’d thought Water was just afraid of being separated from him for most of the day.  They rarely spent more than a few hours apart, as it were.  But then Water asks him quietly, “What if I’m not good enough.  Or not smart enough?” 

Air laughs.  He honestly can’t help it, even though the little ghoul looks appalled by his response.  He’s been waiting for this—meaning, that first real water ghoul drop, low tide as it were.  Depression or anxiety.   Or _insecurity_ …  But of all things to be insecure about.  “Do not worry about that, little one,” he says, getting down on his knees so that they are eye level.  “You will be one of the smartest ones there, I am quite sure of it.”

“I don’t believe you,” Water says.  “You’re just saying that.”

“Have I ever lied to you before?” Air asks, which Water has no response to, because of course he has not.  He straightens the child’s mask and pulls his hood a bit lower.  “Now go on.  I’ll be working in the library, remember?  That’s where I’ll be if you need me, you can come during your breaks if you want.  Otherwise I’ll see you tonight at suppertime, okay?”

“Okay,” Water says quietly, still looking anxious.  But there is no tantrum, and there are no tears.  He may look at the ground as he walks away, his tail hanging low, but he makes no move to misbehave. 

 _I’d stay by your side if I could_ , Air thinks, watching as he disappears around a corner.  _But I have to let you learn and grow on your own.  And I need to remind **myself** of that, too…_

He expects to see the child at some point in time during the day, but as Air’s day continues on from morning till evening in the library, he sees neither hide nor hair of his son.  Worry begins to eat at his gut the as time passes, and he tries to allow his job to take his mind off of his concerns—but the later it gets, the more ridiculous the situations running through his head become. 

He’s trying to sort and put away tomes at the end of the day, mind elsewhere, when the ghoulette at his side speaks up, “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Air startles, having been unaware there was anyone next to him.  He glances over to find the ghoulette—a _Water_ Ghoulette, damnit, one he’d worked beside for years prior—watching him with kind eyes.  And Air doesn’t know what to say, so he just grunts noncommittally, and goes back to his work.

“He’s a cutie,” the ghoulette says.  “I see him playing with some of the others youngsters sometimes—that pond the water babies like is right outside my nest.  Yours is always smiling so big.”

And Air suddenly wonders why he is so worried.  His child is kind and vibrant.  He hasn’t been by because he is having fun learning and playing with his friends.  As he _should_ be.  “He’s a good boy,” Air says.  _More than I ever could have hoped for._

Water Ghoulette continues to smile.  Then, quiet and gentle, “I’m glad you’re back.  Working, I mean.” 

Air looks over, hoping beyond all hope she’s not going to start with the pity game.  It’s been six-years now.  He doesn’t think the hurt will ever go away, no, but he’s very tired of being consoled by every ghoul and ghoulette who ever knew him.  Which is nearly every ghoul and ghoulette on the grounds…

But she says, “I mean, I’m glad you got to spend the time with your boy, but…”  A laugh.  “It’s not been the same around here without you.  None of the young ones know how to file the manuscripts properly, or preserve the old tomes—half of the books in the back aren’t even alphabetized anymore.”

Air can’t help but huff a laugh at that.  “You are joking.”

“Afraid not,” she says.  “I try to stay on top of them, but there are too many new ones working.  I can’t watch them all at once.”

Air shakes his head.  “Good help is hard to find.”

“Something like that.”  She smiles.  She has a sweet smile.  “When we have some spare time, we have to start working on the back room.  Re-alphabetize.  It’s a mess, I can’t find anything when the clergy ask, and then _I_ get reprimanded…”

“We’ll do that as soon as we can,” Air promises her.  “And I’ll try to keep an eye on the new ones, too.  They need to be doing things correctly.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says.  “Sorry to just spring all this on you as soon as you return, but…”

“No, I want to work,” he says, truthful.  It’s good to still feel needed.

“Alright,” she says with a grin.  “Then I’m going to hold you to that.”

~*~

An hour later, and he’s just sat down in the ghoul’s dining hall when Water comes careening in, leaping up onto the chair next to him and almost knocking it over.  Air grabs the back of the chair quickly to keep it upright, and looks down at his son’s overexcited, happy gaze.  “Gentle.  Easy,” he reprimands, but the child’s smile is infectious, and he can’t help but return it.

Water tosses his mask onto the table, having already removed it—no need to wear it in the dining hall—and leans in close to Air.  “You were right,” he whispers conspiratorially.  “I’m smarter than them.”

Air almost chokes on his food.  He wipes his mouth, trying to hold back his laughter, and replies, “Do not tell anyone else that,” he says.  “That’s between me and you.”

Water huffs at him, looking offended.  “I didn’t,” he says, leaning back.  “I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

 _Good, sweet boy…_   “No,” Air agrees.  “We are kind to our fellow ghoul-kin, yes?”

“Mmmhmm,” Water agrees.

“So, you had a good day?” Air hedges.

“Yeah!” Water answers, excited.  “I started learning English writing—it’s different that Italian.”

He says it like Air doesn’t already know, and Air’s heart melts.  “Very good.”

But then his smile falls briefly.  “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you,” he says.  “I met a new Water, and we played with Water and Water during our breaks.”

And no matter how old he gets, he’ll never get used to hearing sentences like that.  They used to all have names, back when there was only a handful of ghoul-kin.  He was called _Ario_.  Which eventually got lost in Swedish translation, then English translation, and now he is simply Air like the rest.  There are none left who remember him by his name—even Alpha and Omega did not know him back then…

But he answers his child, “Do not apologize.  Have fun with the other young ones.”  He reaches out to ruffle Water’s thick hair, as is his go-to affectionate gesture, but the child’s hood is still covering his head.  He ends up tugging light-heartedly on the decorative trim of the hood, and adds, “I was quite busy, anyway.  Lots to do.  Books upon books.”

Water wrinkles his nose.  “Sounds boring.”

Air chuckles.  “That’s what happens when you grow up,” he says.  “Stay young as long as you can.”

Water smiles wide in reply, fully-developed fangs flashing in the firelight.  Air grins in return. 

“Now, go get some dinner.  I’m sure you’re hungry,” he says, gently shooing his child out of the chair.  “Then you can tell me more about your day.”

Water nods and springs from the chair, obediently heading off for the serving table.  Air keeps an eye on him as he goes, heart so full of love.

 _He’s growing up so fast_ , he thinks idly, going back to his food.  _Growing up very well, but much too fast._

~*~

Springtime, and flowers are blooming in the castle gardens.  Air likes the feel of the cool, fresh air and the scent of new life, and he still comes to lounge some days, stretching out on a bench and letting the sun shine on his face. 

He tells Water that he doesn’t have to come, that he can go play with his friends, but he usually accompanies him when he goes to the gardens.  Air doesn’t know if it is the garden itself he enjoys, if he somehow has subconscious memories of being here as a toddler, or even an infant.  Or if he just likes the attention he still gets from the earth ghoulettes who have watched him grow up, and who still let him dig in the dirt and pick fresh berries off the vines.  

And it’s the weekend, a day off for both Air and Water—Water, nine-years-old, and coming more into his own with every day that passes.  It’s quiet in the garden, Air dozing on his bench, when a sudden squeal from one of the earth ghoulettes has him up and running, heart in his throat.

He rounds the corner of a manicured bush to find Water and one of the earth ghoulettes on their knees in front of a flower patch, their backs to him.  “What—?" he says, barely able to breathe.

The earth ghoulette spins her head around, and calls, “Air, come see!  Hurry!”

And hurry Air does, running and then squatting down by Water’s side.  He expects his boy to be injured, or sick.  He does not expect him to be watering the flowers with the tips of his fingers.

“Look!” the earth ghoulette repeats excitedly, then giggles, reaching over to grab Water up in a hug and press a big, wet kiss to his cheek.  Water stops using his ability at that, wrinkling his nose up and wiping at his cheek. 

As soon as the ghoulette lets him go, Air grabs him up, pulling him tight against his chest.  He’d considered this some years ago, and had made peace with the fact that the child may never come into his sign.  At least, nothing beyond what is uncontrollable—excess fluid in the body, frequent urination, recurrent bouts of pneumonia.  The curse may lend them power, but it comes with a definitive price…

Water had no parent to model his water magic after, though.  He spent time around other young water ghouls, sure, but there is a difference.  Spending time around an adult ghoul-kin of the same sign is how a child begins to learn, and well, Air is _air_.  He doesn’t know how this happened—except his does, the child is extra-ordinary in every way—but he crushes Water against him and murmurs, “You are _amazing_.”

“ _Pap_ _àààààààà…”_ Water whines, as if exasperated Air would make a big deal about this.  So Air lets him go, not wanting to embarrass him, and watches as the child gets a look on his face.  That look he gets when he’s about to say or do something inappropriate.  Air opens his mouth, about to preempt whatever is going to happen, but gets a faceful of water sprayed from the child’s palms before he can say anything. 

“Oh…” the ghoulette says, but doesn’t get to finish her sentence before Water has rounded on her as well and given her the same treatment.  “Oh, you little…” she says, though looks more delighted over the whole thing than offended as she wipes at her face.

And Air knows he should scold him, but can’t bring himself to.  He laughs instead, pulling him back into a hug.  Water squirms against him, and says, “Ugh, you’re getting me all wet…”

“Should have thought about that first, little one,” he replies, while the ghoulette giggles at them in the background.

It occurs to him the week after, though, that he’s in a bit of a pickle.  It appears the child is going to come into his sign after all—he begins throwing water around at any given opportunity, so much so that Air has to warn him against making a mess inside the nest—but Air can’t at all help him.  He deserves to be taught how to use his magic, even if using their abilities to their full, violent extent has become obsolete in this day and age.  But he should still know what he’s capable of.

Air wracks his brain for what he should do, and then the solution presents itself as though gifted to him by the Divine.  Or by someone else who is perhaps looking out for them both…

“Ugh,” Water Ghoulette says, working next to him in the library.  She wrinkles her nose, putting down the tome in her hands.  “They put this away without cleaning it.  There is dust all over it, demons…”

And Air watches out of the corner of his eye as she runs a dust rag gently across the bindings, and then pulls water from within her hands, keeping it on her skin so as not to make a mess.  She rubs her hands together with the water to clean away the dust on her fingers and palms, before neatly wiping the water off on the dust rag and going back to work. 

 _The worst she can say is no_ , Air thinks.  “Can I ask something of you?  A rather large favor.”

“What do you need?” she asks, moving on to the next tome.  Another nose wrinkle, and a new dust rag.

“My boy, he’s just started coming into his sign…”

“Oh, how exciting,” she answers, sounding distracted.  He swallows.

“It is,” he allows.  “Except, I can’t do anything for him.  He needs guidance…  From another Water.”

And _that_ gets her full attention.  “Are you asking me to teach him?”

“If you would,” he says.  “I can repay you.  I’ve collected a lot of trinkets over the centuries…”

“No,” she says, shaking her head, and Air’s stomach drops.  He’d thought…  But then she says, “I don’t need your trinkets.  I’d be _honored_ to teach him.”

“Oh,” Air says, smiling softly.  “Thank you.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head again.  “Thank you for trusting me with this.  It means a lot.  I know what he is to you.”

And Air goes to protest, except she has the right of it.  He simply nods.

She returns his nod, giving him a gentle pat on the back as she moves away toward the back rooms.  “I’ll take good care of him,” she says.  “I promise.”

~*~

Time passes, and Air begins to wonder if asking the water ghoulette that he works with to train his child was really a good idea…

Not that anything is wrong, no.  In fact, everything is wonderful.  She works with him one night each week after supper, and for a few hours on the weekends.  Then she gushes to Air the next day how great the boy is, how clever he is, and _demons_ , how powerful!

 _Of course he’s powerful_ , Air wants to say.  _I’m one of the originals, born of human and demon union.  Which means he is only one generation removed from the initial curse.  Apart from me, and perhaps Alpha, he’ll be the most powerful ghoul here…_

“He’s pulling storms,” she tells him, just after Water has turned eleven-years-old.  “I’ve never seen anything like it.  I’ve seen ice shards occasionally.  A lot of drowning the enemy in their own fluids.  Never storms like this.”

They talk too much now, Air thinks.  He’d never noticed her before, when he was still paired with _his_ Water Ghoulette.  Well, he'd _noticed_ her, he worked with her.  She is intelligent and kind, always was.  But with the bond broken, he’s noticing _other_ things that he never had before.  Like the sway of her hips when she walks, and the swell of her breasts—a bit larger than his Mate’s, but still quite lovely. 

And the way she smells, the gentle and feminine ghoulette scent, with that underlying cool hint of water.  Definitely reminiscent of his own Mate, but different at the same time.  Something that is distinct about her, and quite alluring.  _Arousing._

He hasn’t been with anyone since his Ghoulette’s passing, hasn’t even really thought about or wanted to sleep with another ghoulette.  Spending time with Water and keeping busy with his work has kept him happy, and when the purely physical urge has hit him, he always took care of it alone.  Fucked his fist in the washroom and made no noises for Water to overhear.

But now?  He’s spending quite a bit of time wondering what it would be like to have _this_ Water Ghoulette underneath him.  If she would smile at him like she does in the library when he is inside her.  If she would make pretty noises for him, too.  And if she would feel as good around his cock as his Mate did—or even half as good.  He’s not sure anyone will ever be as good as Mate, but…

He knows he will never bond again.  There is only one in a lifetime, and he was blessed to have spent so much time with his.  Many only have a few decades before they are unfairly ripped apart.  But even with that knowledge, he’s still spending a lot of time _wondering_.

And then she says, “Thank you, again, for letting me work with him.  He’s such a joy.”  A pause, and a sad little sigh.  “I wanted my own offspring, but we never—mmm…  I just feel like I’m getting a little taste of what I’ve missed out on.  This is one of those things I didn’t think I’d ever get to do, you know?”

Air knows before he asks.  She’s not bound now, she doesn’t have the right smell.  There is no lingering scent of a partner.  Which can only mean one thing, considering what she’s said.  “Your pair-bond…?”

“He’s in the Pit, with our Creator,” she says, giving him a watery little smile.  She always smiles…  “I only had him for a few decades.  We tried once for a child, but it was stillborn.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, but she shakes her head.

“You of all people should understand how I feel about the dreaded ‘I’m sorry’,” she says, and he laughs, because indeed he does. 

“Fair enough,” he says.

She wipes her eyes, and stands on her tiptoes to hug him.  He hugs her back, enjoying the feel of her body against him.  She is not a petite ghoulette, she is thick and curvy, but she still feels small against his tall, solid frame. 

He finds it’s a sensation he likes.

~*~

As it turns out, she does smile up at him when he’s inside her.

“It’s-it’s been a long time,” she murmurs to him as he rubs himself between her legs, over her sex.  She strokes her hands over his cheeks, then brushes his long hair back behind his horns, and says even quieter, “I haven’t been with anyone—anyone else since…”  A soft, breathless laugh, and an anxious smile.  “I’m nervous.”

“I haven’t either.  Haven’t been with anyone else since…” he tells her.  _And I’m nervous too._   “I’ll be gentle.  Whatever you need.”

She nods and strokes his face again, claws gentle again his skin.  Her mouth falls slack as he slowly sinks into her, and she grabs his horns, thighs tight around his waist, pushing her hips up to meet him.  And when he asks her if she’s alright, she nods and gives him that sweet smile.

And it’s slow, and tender, and wonderfully therapeutic.  She eventually comes for him after a lot of alternating back and forth between his mouth and his cock.   Maybe it’s her nerves, or other complex emotions mixed into the moment.  But she rides the edge for quite a while, body trembling in his arms and claws digging into his biceps, blissful yet desperate noises falling from her lips.  It’s a good thing he’s as old as he is with some modicum of self-control, or he would not be able to hold out for her, especially as lovely as she is in her pleasure.

But then she’s finally coming around his cock, her pussy clenching around him, and _Satanus_ , but she feels wonderful.  He pulls out when he begins to come along with her, not wanting to be presumptuous—he’s not her Mate, nor will he ever be.  She makes it hard, though, her thighs so tight around him that it’s difficult to move back.  Still, he manages to spill himself across her pelvis instead of inside her.

They lie beside each other in her bed afterward, catching their breaths.  He looks over at her, at her mussed up blond hair and beautiful, naked body, and reaches over to drag his fingers through his seed smeared across her skin.  She curses idly as she watches him lick it from his fingers. 

“That was—really good,” she says, sounding tired.  Satisfied.  He’d forgotten what a satisfied ghoulette sounded like, and he remembers now why it’s so lovely.  “Sorry it took me so long to climax.  I don’t know why…”

“It’s okay,” Air tells her.  “You were so sexy.  _Are_ so sexy.”

She smiles at him, such a sweet smile, and reaches over to stroke his cheek.  “Next time, don’t pull out,” she tells him, quite plainly.  “I was trying to keep you there, was holding on with my thighs.  I guess you didn’t get the hint.”

“I didn’t want to be disrespectful,” he says.  _To you or your Mate._  

She continues to smile.  He does so love her smile…  “You are far too kind-hearted to be disrespectful.”

“Mmm,” he hums.  And then it very suddenly occurs to him.  “Next time?”

It takes her a moment to catch up with his line of thought, but then she suddenly becomes flustered.  “I—," she begins, biting her lip.  One of her canines catch, and he sees a bit of blood well up.  “I enjoy your company.  I thought…”

And he hadn’t meant to upset her.  He pushes himself up on an elbow and leans over to press their lips together.  He can taste the hint of blood, sweet and intoxicating.  “I enjoy you, as well,” he tells her, not pulling away. 

She smiles against his lips, before pressing another quick kiss to them.  She rolls away from him a bit to look him in the eye, and asks, “So, next time?”

“Next time,” he agrees.

She grabs one of his horns, pulling on it playfully.  “And you won’t pull out next time?”

He can’t help but laugh, and promises, “Whatever you wish, beautiful.”

~*~

He stays with Water Ghoulette for a time, holding her close and resting his eyes, before eventually excusing himself.  She smiles at him knowingly, running her knuckles lightly down the center of his chest, and murmurs, “Go.  I don’t mean to keep you from your boy.”

“I’m sure he’s already asleep, but…” Air says, shrugging, unsure how to voice his need to sleep in _his_ nest. 

But she shakes her head, pushing at him gently, and says, “You don’t have to explain yourself, I understand.  Go.  And give him an extra kiss from me.”

Air nods, touching her face one last time, and pulls his cassock back on before leaving.  It’s just after 1:00 AM when he lets himself back into his own nest, and comes face-to-face with Water…

Water, who is very much still awake, sitting up in his bed wearing his sleep clothes.  He appears awfully worried, and perks up as soon as Air steps into the room.  “ _Pap_ _à!_ ” he says excitedly, leaning forward in the bed.  “You’re home!”

“Yes,” Air says, swallowing back the lump in his throat.  “I told you to go to bed.  I wouldn’t be back until late.”

And he had—told the child that he had more work to do in the library after dinner, and that he wouldn’t be back to the nest until late tonight.  Yes, he’d lied to the boy’s face for the first time.  But he hadn’t known what to say, or how to explain what was actually happening.  Water is still young, as far as these things are concerned.  Ghoul-kin begin sexual development later than humans do, and Water is a good five or six years away from just the beginnings, even further away from full maturity, from fertility and cycling ruts. 

Air has not talked to him about sex, and he realizes very suddenly, as Water tilts his head and begins to scent the air, that he’s waited too late.

“Water…” he begins, unsure what he’s going to say. 

But then Water narrows his eyes in accusation, and he says, “You smell like sex.”

And hearing that from his eleven-year-old ghoul-child?  Not ‘ _you smell different_ ’ or even ‘ _you smell like ghoulette_ ’.  But ‘ _you smell like sex_ ’.  Air thinks he might fall over from shock.  “How—?" he starts.  “How do you know what sex smells like?”

“I’m eleven, not _five_ ,” Water replies with an eye-roll.  Then, “So, in the library, huh?”

Air has the very sudden urge to walk over and slap him, but he holds himself steady.  He’s better than that.  This is his own fault, anyway.  “I wasn’t working,” he says.  “I was with a friend.”

“A ghoulette,” Water says, or rather corrects.  Then, “You lied.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Air says.  Water doesn’t reply, so he presses on with a sigh, “A ghoulette can be a friend, too.” 

He’s honestly shocked that the boy doesn’t recognize the scent as Water Ghoulette’s, his teacher’s.  Perhaps he’s too caught up in everything else that is happening, that he’s feeling…  “I _know_ that.”  Water sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face.  Then, “What about _Mamà?”_

Air’s heart breaks and shatters at his feet.  He sighs, walking slowly across the room to sit down next to Water.  The boy wrinkles his nose at him, expressing his dissatisfaction over the smell, and Air huffs.  “I’m going to bathe, just…”  Another sigh.  “Your mother was my pair-bond.  You know that, right?”

Water nods.  “Yeah, of course.  _I’m_ here,” he says.  Which is fair enough—Air’s never heard of a ghoul-kin having a child outside of a pair-bond.  Unless the two were forced together during a heat and rut, but the clergy hasn’t done that in centuries. 

Air continues.  “So then, you know that she was— _is_ special.  And even if I spend time with other ghoulettes now that our bond is broken, there’s still never going to be another ghoulette like her. Not for me.”  Water just stares, expression still critical.  Air sighs.  “I can’t replace her, even if I wanted to.  Which I don’t.  I don’t want to.  The bond is something sacred.  Even though she’s gone, I’ve known the bond.  And I remember.  And I…  Shit…”  _I’m doing a horrible job of explaining this…_

But the boy’s expression has softened, and he eventually asks, “So, I shouldn’t have said that?”

“Said what?” Air counters, confused.

“’What about _Mamà?’,”_ Water repeats, and Air closes his eyes, having to take a deep breath before he answers.

“No,” he replies, but then amends.  “I mean, you shouldn’t have _worried_ about that.  Her spirit will always be a part of this nest.  And I’ll always love her.”

Water nods, eyes on the floor.  “Okay.”

“Okay,” Air repeats, brushing Water’s thick hair back from his face.  Silence falls, and he lets it stretch, claws gently scritching at the boy’s scalp.  Eventually, he says, “I’m going to go take a bath.  Unless you want to talk more?”

Water shakes his head ‘no’, so Air stands and heads toward the washroom.  And he decides…

“Tomorrow, we’re having a discussion about mating.  Since you somehow already know what it smells like…”

“ _Pap_ _à,_ no _!_ ” Water replies, sounding scandalized. 

“Oh, don’t get upset.  You’ve spent too much time around the sisters,” he says, glancing back.  And now he’s pretty sure he knows where the child has found out what little bit he already knows.  Humans, bad news.  He finishes, “It’s a completely normal, natural part of life.  The humans make too much of a fuss.”

Water flings himself back into the bed with a groan, and Air chuckles at him, continuing on to the washroom.  And he’s just shut the door behind himself when he hears, in the snarkiest of tones, “I’m glad you’re friends with Water Ghoulette.”

Air almost trips and falls face-first into the tub.  “Rude and inappropriate!” he calls back through the door, admonishing. 

“What?” Water replies, trying to sound innocent.  “I just think she’s nice is all.”

And if this is a preview for what adult-Water is going to be like?  Well, Air won’t feel so bad about slapping him once he’s reached maturity…


	2. Chapter 2

Air doesn’t quite know how to explain it, but after being caught sneaking in from Water Ghoulette’s by his child, he suddenly feels very guilty.  About what, he’s not even entirely sure.  For lying to the boy?  For causing the boy undue worry and stress?  For enjoying mating with another ghoulette in the first place?  Could be any one, or all three…

And then there are two weeks of flirtatious words and suggestive touches in the evenings while he works alongside Water Ghoulette, before she apparently gets tired of being subtle.

“Do I need to give you a written invitation,” she asks finally, laying a gentle hand on his forearm to keep him from walking away.  Then, a quiet sigh.  “Or have you decided you’re not interested after all?”

And oh, he’s still interested.  _Very_ interested.  There are teeth-marks in his hand where he had bit his fist two nights ago, pleasuring himself to thoughts of her.  The resulting conversation with Water had been strange, to say the least…

‘ _What happened to your hand?_ ’ Water had said, concerned.

 _‘I bit myself,_ ’ Air had said.  Not a lie.

‘ _Why?_ ’

‘ _Uhm, it was an accident.”_ Also not technically a lie—he certainly hadn’t meant to bite himself hard enough to break the skin.  He’d just been trying to stay quiet.

Water had only stared at him, and then shook his head in that way that clearly said, _I think my_ papà _is crazy…_

But Air says to Water Ghoulette, “No, you are beautiful.  I just…”  He huffs, having no idea how to explain himself.  Words are not his fortè, never have been.  He hadn’t even learned to speak until late in life, an unfortunate consequence of being abandoned by his human mother once he began to grow fangs and a tail.  He does well enough listening and following conversation, but not speaking his mind. 

Luckily, Water Ghoulette drags him along, much like another that he used to know.  “Is something wrong?” she asks, frowning in worry. 

“He, uh…  Water knows,” Air says.

“Oh,” she says, raising her brows.  “He hasn’t said anything to me.  Wait, does he know you were with _me_ , or…?”

“Yes,” he answers.  Then, a sigh.  “We had a talk about his mother.  He seemed to think…  I don’t know.”

“He’s upset?” she asks, frowning.  He doesn’t like it when she frowns—he doesn’t want to make her unhappy.

“He _was_ ,” Air says.  “He seems to understand now, but…”

And she somehow seems to hear what he isn’t saying.  She squeezes his arm once before releasing him.  “This isn’t easy, I know.  I’ve struggled, and I don’t have offspring,” she says, soft and kind.  “If you need some time, I understand.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, nodding, and she gives him that sweet smile, then goes to her tip-toes to hug him. 

But he finds, with her kind words and sweet smell, that he really doesn’t need any more time.

~*~

“I’m going to visit a friend tonight,” Air tells Water, watching the child as he finishes changing into his sleep clothes.  “You’ll be okay by yourself?  I’ll be back later.”

Water climbs up into his bed, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment, before he asks, “You’re going to go visit Water Ghoulette?”

Air swallows, and contemplates lying.  He’s already decided that he’ll wash _before_ he returns to his nest—which is what he should have done the first time.  There will be plausible deniability.  And he doesn’t want to upset Water again, is somewhat afraid that child will still feel as though Air his betraying his mother.  

But he’s also decided that he’s never lying to the boy again.  _Never_.  That was by far his worst transgression. 

So, he answers, “Yes.”  And then, for some asinine reason, as though he actually needs permission from his child…  “Is that alright?”

Water nods after a moment, grabbing one of his books from schooling off his nightstand—a Swedish one, Air notices.  “Yeah,” he says.  Then, a bit uncertainly, “You’ll be back tonight?”

“Yes, of course,” he says.  _I’d never leave you alone in the nest all night, not at your age…_   “But I’ll be late.  Go to sleep when you’re tired, okay?  Don’t wait for me.”

“Will you wake me up when you’re back?”  He still sounds a bit uncertain.  “So I know.”

“If you want me to,” Air answers.  Water nods, so Air ruffles his hair affectionately and kisses his forehead before turning to leave.  “Goodnight, little one.  I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Water murmurs.  And Air’s across the room when Water speaks up again from behind him.  “Are you going to…  _you know_?”

It’s a question of morbid curiosity, as though he doesn’t particularly want to know but can’t stop himself from asking.  Like staring at a train wreck.  Air has to stifle a laugh, remembering their _talk_ from a couple of weeks ago.  The boy hadn’t known as much as he’d seemed to think, mostly just play-yard chatter from the other young ghouls and pieces of gossip from the sisters.  And from the sounds of it, he’d somehow gotten the scent of a sister just after she’d just been with a ghoul.  So there was Air’s answer to _that_.

But first, he’d explained to Water the very basic facts of sex, the _‘what’s_ and the _‘how’s_.  Then, he’d explained how very special and sacred the act was between a pair-bond.  And finally, since the boy had apparently been around a lot of the sisters’ tittering and wild tales, he’d reiterated that mating was simply part of an adult ghoul’s life.  Nothing unusual or awkward or embarrassing about it. 

However, Water had pretty much thought the whole thing was repulsive.  _‘This is so gross,’_ he’d said, nose wrinkled in his typical way.  So Air had left it at that…

And now, Air counters him with an amused, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, little one.”  Before leaving the boy alone to read his book.

It’s beginning to snow, and so Air wraps his cloak tight around his shoulders as he traverses the grounds towards Ghoulette’s room.  It’s a bit of a walk, but not so far as to cause undue discomfort in the winter weather.  She answers the door in nothing but a loose tunic, a fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the chill.  And when her face lights up at the sight of him, his chest and gut are filled with such a warmth that he completely forgets the cold. 

“I said that if you needed some time, I understood,” she tells him, a hand reaching out to touch the edge of his cloak. 

“I’ve already had time,” he says.  Then, “May I come inside?”

She shoot him a wicked grin at that, and stands on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I thought we already agreed that next time, you would.”

He chokes on a breath, and his cock twitches, already starting to harden as she pulls him inside her nest.  He grunts, a low rumble in his chest, and he kicks the door shut behind himself as she wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her body to his front and burying her face in his chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” she tells him, her voice muffled against the material of his cloak and cassock.  He pets her hair, and holds her close when the fur blanket falls from her shoulders, not wanting her to be cold.  She continues, “I was so nervous last time—I’m not sure you even realize.  I mean, I wanted you so badly, but I was so scared.”

“I’m…  I’m sorry?” he tries, unsure how he’s supposed to respond, but she shushes him. 

“No, that’s not…”  She pulls away from his chest to look up at him, a gentle smile on her face.  “You made it easy.  Made me feel comfortable.  And mmm…”  She reaches up, pushing the hood of his cloak back and then raking her claws softly through his hair, across his scalp.  “You felt so good.  I keep thinking about how good you felt.  Your hands, your mouth, your dick…”

He groans, getting so very turned on, and dips his head to nuzzle at her hair.  She returns his moan, and leans into him, pressing against his burgeoning arousal. 

“Mmm, I can feel you,” she tells him, playful, and grinds herself against him.  “You like hearing you were a good lay?  So very typical.”

“I can’t help myself,” he tells her with a chuckle.  “You are very lovely—I’m glad I please you.” 

She smiles up at him, open and happy, and reaches up to kiss him.  He meets her, dipping his head and enjoying the taste of her lips.  And when she pulls away, she murmurs, “Take me to bed?”

He growls, quiet, those simple words affecting him more than they probably should.  But he’s been thinking about that precise thing for two weeks straight now, and shit, he’s finally getting what he wants.  So he runs his hands down her back, over her ass, and then finally bends to cup the backs of her thighs.  Grabs her firmly and hoists her up. 

She growls back at him as he settles her astraddle his waist, her hands clutching his shoulders to steady herself, but the noise is soft and high pitched, excited.  She smiles at him when he glances at her to be sure she’s alright, and leans over to nip playfully at his ear as her carries her to her bed. 

And there will never be another water ghoulette like _his_ Water Ghoulette.  Trying to make comparisons is like trying to compare apples and oranges.  There is nothing to compare.  But Air thinks that he quite likes _this_ Water Ghoulette in her own right.  He cares for her, as one cares for their good friends.  And he knows deep down that one day, he could find that those feelings run deeper.

He thinks that he would not mind sharing more of himself with her, especially once Water has grown and left the nest.  It will be lonely without his boy, but not so much with her around.  And Air does very much enjoy her company…  

~*~

When he returns to the nest later that night, Water is asleep.

The boy is splayed out on his stomach under the blankets, his book face-down on the floor and his arm hanging off the bed.  It looks as though he’d fallen asleep reading, then flopped over onto his belly into his usual sleep position, losing his book in the process.  That feeling that grips Air’s chest sometimes—a lot of the time—when he looks at his offspring takes hold, and he walks across the room slowly, undoing his cloak along the way. 

“ _Pap_ _à_?” Water murmurs drowsily, while Air leans down to pick up the book from the floor. 

Air glances at him, at his sleepy eyes, while he lays the book back on his bedside table.  “Yes, little one,” he says.  He reaches over and brushes the hair from his eyes, then pulls his blankets higher and tighter around him.  “Go back to sleep.  I’m tired, too.”

And by the time Air had undressed and climbed into his own bed, the boy is already snoring away.

~*~

Fourteen-years-old, and Water is silent after Sunday Mass. 

Air leaves him be, figuring he’s in a mood.  Depressed, or maybe agitated.  If he wants to talk about it, he will.  Air has always made himself available, has always made sure the boy knows he can come to him with anything, no matter how big or how small. 

Water is his offspring.  And his last, at that.  And in Air’s eyes he is perfect, no matter what strange moods may find him…

They lounge in the garden, Air on his bench and Water on the grass nearby.  The boy has removed his cassock, leaving him in only his black breeches and boots while he enjoys what summer sun they actually get at the castle.  He’s beginning to look like a _ghoul_ now, not a child—he is developing some strength about his frame, especially across his shoulders and arms, and his claws and fangs are already well past deadly, plenty able to rend flesh.

Water squirms, then turns over to settle on his belly, curling then uncurling his tail as he gets comfortable.  Air watches him, and meets his gaze with a small smile when the boy looks at him.

And then, to his surprise, Water asks, “How did you learn to play the organ?”

Air raises his eyebrows.  “Well,” he says.  “The clergy taught me a long time ago.  When ghouls first became involved in services.  It was decided that an air ghoul should play the organ and piano, and I was the oldest, even then.  So…”  He pauses, gesticulating vaguely.  “I became the first to play.”

“So, only air ghouls are allowed to play?” Water asks.

“For Mass and services, yes,” Air answers, and watches as the boy’s face falls.  As Water turns his head away, resting his chin on his hands, Air asks the question he’s sure he already know the answer to.  But…  “Why?”

“I wanted to play,” he replies, disappointed.

“Mmm,” Air murmurs.  “The water ghouls are tasked with the bass.  You could play that at Mass.”

Water shrugs, not looking particularly thrilled.  “Wanted to play piano,” he mumbles.

“Then play for the enjoyment of it.  The clergy’s rules are arbitrary,” Air tells him.  “There are pianos in the chapels.  There are no rules against using them.”

Water’s face lights up.  “Really?” he asks.  Then, his expression falling again, “Does the clergy—the sisters have to…?”

“No,” Air says, shaking his head.  “I can teach you.”  _I would **love** to teach you…_

“Don’t we need permission?” Water presses, still seeming unsure.  “It’s church property.  I don’t want to get punished—don’t want _you_ to get punished.”

 _As if some random brother or sister would **dare** try to punish me_ , he thinks with a smirk.  But he keeps this to himself, and just says, “I’m a piano ghoul.  I’m allowed to use the instruments as I see fit.  I _have_ to use them to learn new pieces—you’ve seen me practice in the chapels...”

Water nods, a big smile spreading across his face.  “So, we could just…  Go and play?”

“Yes,” Air replies, and watches in surprise as Water scrambles up to his feet then grabs his cassock off the ground.  He doesn’t even bother wiping off the bits of grass that have stuck to his skin, just starts pulling his clothes back on over his bare chest.  Air laughs, and asks, “Wait, right now?”

“Uh…” Water says, slowing down and seemingly taking stock of things.  “Well, uhm, I guess—let me get something to drink.  And pee.  But then?  We can then, right?”

“Sure, why not?”  He returns the boy’s excited smile.  “Nothing else pressing to do.”

“Rad!” Water says, and begins to dash away toward their nest.  Air pushes himself up from his bench with a grunt, feeling very, _very_ old in the wake of his child’s enthusiasm.

“I’m coming!  Wait!  Wait, little one!” he calls. 

Though he’s quite aware that his little one is not a true ‘little one’ any longer…

~*~

And still the time passes so quickly. 

Water learns to play the keys easily, just as he learns everything else.  He bores of scales and mundane exercises fast, and Air has to continuously insist that he do as Air says.  This is how he learns to do things the _correct_ way.  One cannot run until they learn how to walk, and one cannot walk until they learn to crawl. 

The boy growls and snarls at him for the first time while sitting on the piano bench, frustrated over what Air is telling him and frustrated over what he’s not yet skilled enough to do.  Air just stares at him—fifteen-years-old now, a ghoul’s fervor in his eye, his deadly fangs bared.  Yet at the same, the growl is an octave too high, and there are no horns to back up the threatening tilt of his head, only two defined bumps. 

Air doesn’t say anything, though his first gut reaction is to simply ask, ‘Really, child?’  Or even laugh aloud.  But if this is where he is now, where he thinks that he can turn to an adult ghoul—his own blood-kin, his _sire_ —and snarl and growl?  Well…

Air curls his upper lip back to bare his fangs, and he growls low, the sound vibrating through his chest.  He narrows his eyes and ducks his head to show his horns, then flings a hand out and slams his claws down on the ivories, adding more grooves to the ones already littering the keys. 

The cacophony of tonalities from the piano is drowned out by Water’s squeal, and Air watches as the boy leaps up in shock, almost falling as he stumbles forward into the piano and Air’s outstretched arm.  But then he abruptly sits back down on the bench and shuts his mouth, silent as the grave.  He stares back at Air with wide, stunned eyes, looking instinctively terrified.  And so Air moves slow.  Gentle.  Kind…

He eases Water close and pulls him into a hug, purring quietly.  “Good boy,” he murmurs, petting the boy’s hair.  Air can feel him trembling against him, and realizes idly that the boy has never seen this behavior from him, not at all.  Air’s gotten milder in his old age, and he never did go prowling for fights in the first place, only became aggressive when necessary.  And he’s certainly never reared up on his own child in anger.  So he nuzzles at the top of Water’s head, and says, “I’m hugging you.  But if you’d done that to anyone else my age, you’d be in pieces across this chapel.”

Water shivers once, head to toe, then comments, “There’s no one else here as old as you…”

Air blinks, releasing the boy.  “Quite the mouth, for someone who almost pissed himself two seconds ago.”

“I did not!” Water says, affronted.  Air just laughs.

“Sure.” He leans forward, letting his fingers trail up the keys in an idle melody.  His claws clack along in rhythm while Water tries to follow, slower and unsure.  “Good,” Air tells him softly.

Water shoots him a small smile, before the boy murmurs, “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Air says, truthful.  He plays another simple melody, and watches as Water repeats it after him.  Then, he adds, “But growl at me again?  You’ll end up on the ceiling.”

Water looks confused by the threat, so Air demonstrates by throwing a nearby wooden chair up with a gust of wind.  Unfortunately, the chair is quite old, and one of the legs breaks with _crack_ when it falls back to the floor. 

“Shit…” Air curses.

“Oh, I see,” Water says, sarcastic.

Air glares at him, but then points to the broken chair.  “ _That_ didn’t happen.  Understood?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Water says, grinning.  “It was like that when we got here.”

“Indeed.”  He chuckles, leaning over to butt his horns affectionately against the boy’s shoulder.  Then, “You want to call it a day?  Or play for a bit longer?”

“Mmm, little longer,” Water replies, settling his hands back on the keys.  “If that’s alright…”

And as if Air is going to tell him _‘no’_ …  “Mmmhmm,” he murmurs, ruffling the boy’s hair.  “Back to it, then…”

~*~

Eighteen-years-old, and the boy’s horns start to come through. 

It’s a sort of ‘coming of age’ moment, having the horns grow in, and always has been ever since Air can remember.  No one is a real ghoul or ghoulette until they have their horns, whether the horns be big or small, sharp or blunt, straight or curved.  They are special, the defining mark of the ghoul-kin, and something they all take great pride in.

It’s a painful experience, though, one of the most physically painful Air has ever endured in his entire life.  He can remember himself at that age—long before he’d ever found the castle, hidden amidst the Italian countryside and very much alone.  He’d been sure that he was dying, _finally_ dying, that whatever evil plagued his body had finally come to take him.  The headache was agonizing, unrelenting and constant, so painful that his eyes watered and his stomach turned and he screamed into the night in misery.

He still has the mesh of scars across his forehead, between his horns, where he’d slammed his head repeatedly into trees trying to relieve the pressure.  But then he’d had no one there to tell him what was happening, and only realized after the horns were though that it was like everything else about himself.  Different, dark, and deadly…

Water is not alone, though, and Air watches as his child begins to fade at the end of September.  It’s a subtle thing, his typical happiness traded instead for forced civility.  And that façade drops as soon as it’s just the two of them in the nest, leaving Air with a sullen water ghoul unwilling to talk.  Or play.  Or read.  Or do anything except bury himself underneath the covers and sleep.

At first, Air thinks it’s depression, and so he leaves him be, just waits for him to come around.  But then he begins to notice things, small things—like the constant furrow in his brow, there even while he sleeps.  And the way he always holds himself, awkward and tense.  And the difference in the pace of his breathing, the rhythm of his heart, his cool water smell…

No, it’s not depression.  His child is in pain.  Physical pain.  And considering his age, the developmental stage he’s inevitably in now… 

Well, Air is quite sure he knows what’s wrong. 

Then Air wakes up in the middle of the night, the ache in his bladder forcing him up and to the washroom, and finds the boy awake on the other side of the nest.  He’s face down in his bed and savagely thrusting his forehead into the pillow, huffing quietly to himself as his does so, and it would be a humorous sight in any other circumstance.  Except Air knows exactly what he’s doing, and why he’s doing it. 

At least he’s decided the pillow is a good place to try to relieve the pain and pressure, as opposed to banging his head against the stone walls of their rooms, or grinding it into their old, wooden dresser and nightstand. 

Air waits until he’s had a piss then come back out before he says anything, just to see if Water will stop now that he’s awake.  He doesn’t want to push the issue, since Water seems averse to voicing any pain for some odd reason.  And the boy has always come to him when he’s needed him, so he trusts that this time will be no different.  Or at least, _tries_ to trust…

Except the boy is still smashing his face against the pillow when Air comes out of the washroom, and so he murmurs, “Water?”

Water grunts in reply, then snaps, “ _What?_ ”

Air doesn’t comment on the tone, just asks, “Are you alright?”

Water suddenly goes still, it seemingly dawning him that Air can tell something is wrong.  As if Air wouldn’t notice, hadn’t already noticed…  Air almost chuckles.  But the boy answers, “M’fine, _P_ _a_.  Just go back to sleep.”

Air growls at him quietly, an unsaid, ‘ _Don’t tell me what to do, little one.’_ But he climbs back into bed nonetheless, and eventually falls back asleep even though he never does hear Water do the same.

The next day is not a good day, not for Air.  His curse rears its ugly head, and with more brutality than it has in a long time.  He keeps having to stop what he’s working on in the library to grab the nearest solid object, splaying his hands out across a table or clinging to edge of a bookshelf, just trying to ground himself.  The dizziness and lightheadness is overwhelming, leaving him sick to his stomach and unsteady on his feet, feeling as though the earth beneath him will give out at any moment.  He’s accustomed to the sensations by now, as old as he is, though he used to be convinced that one day he would simply float away into the sky, carried off by the breeze…

Water Ghoulette is already concerned about him, he can tell by her side-eyes and quiet sighs.  He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, and she says nothing about it aloud.  But then he has to use _her_ to ground himself while they are walking between sections, the floor suddenly tilting beneath him with nothing else to keep him on his feet except her body next to him.  She stumbles a bit underneath his weight out of shock, but she’s ample enough strength to take his weight and steady him after her moment of surprise.

“You need to go back to your nest,” she says.  He finds himself staring down into her worried blue eyes, one of her hands on each of his shoulders.  “You’re not well.”

“M’fine,” he tells her, and then quite clearly thinks of his son the night prior.  _‘M’fine, Pa.’_   Well, at least the boy comes by it honest.  “It’s just, you know, air ghoul…”

“No, you’re not ‘fine’,” Ghoulette replies, shaking her head.  “Go, lie down.  I’ll cover for you.”

“It’s still early,” Air tries to argue.

“It’ll be fine,” she counters.  Then, with a soft smile, “I’m sure I can find some way for you to make it up to me.  Maybe tomorrow night, if you’re feeling better.”

He rumbles back at her, low and affectionate, and lets his head fall forward to rest against the top of hers.  She nuzzles back, her hands rubbing at his shoulders while she presses up into him.  Her horns push against his jaw with the movement, but they’re small and blunt and barely hurt.

“Okay?” she asks pulling away to meet his gaze.

And well, he does feel quite bad…  “Okay,” he agrees.  “I’ll make it up to you.  I promise.”

She shoots him a sly grin, before going to her toes for a quick kiss.  “I know you will,” she murmurs.  Then, in farewell, “Rest well.  Feel better.”

He makes his way slowly and carefully back to the nest—out of the clergy’s area, across the main courtyard, and down into what used to be the servants’ quarters of the castle.  Air has always found it very symbolic that a lot of the ghouls nest here, where humans used to segregate the other humans they saw as ‘beneath’ them.  Though he has never been one to get caught up in civic squabbles with the clergy.  That only brings about heartbreak and headaches.

And speaking of headaches…

When he opens the door to his nest, it’s not empty as he expected.  As it should be.  While Water finished his schooling months ago, he’s been set to guard-duty on top of the ramparts during the day.  A high honor, especially for one so young.  And Air is proud, _so proud_ , even if he secretly wishes the boy was safely holed away cooking or cleaning.  Not one order away from investigating what a lookout has seen nearby.  Or one shout away from breaking up a deadly ghoul-fight.  Or one call away from accompanying a higher clergy member on a trip away from the castle…

He may be eighteen, almost at full maturity, an adult as far as the clergy is concerned.  But Air thinks he still looks very small curled up in a ball on his bed, tail tucked between his legs, shoulders shaking.  The boy jerks when Air shuts the door behind himself, looking over his shoulder and hastily wiping at his eyes.  “ _Pa-p_ _à?_ ” he stammers, voice catching.  “What’re you…?  You’re supposed to be working.”

“You’re supposed to be—.”  He tries to get the sentence out, but is hit with a sudden dizzy spell.  Luckily, it’s only a few stumbling steps over to his bed, and he sits down on the edge with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“ _Pa?_ ”  The boy’s tone is worried now, and so Air offers him a small smile.

“M’fine.”  He repeats the words he’d said to Ghoulette.  “Just air ghoul shit…”

“Mmm.  Sorry,” Water says, and Air listens to the sheets rustle as the boy gets up, then listens to the soft _pad-pad_ of his bare feet across the stone floor as he walks over.  The bed dips next to him as he sits down, and the Water adds, “I don’t feel good, either.  Brindle told me I looked like shit, and I needed to go home.  So here I am.”

Air looks over at Water, and his heart breaks when he finds himself staring into red-rimmed eyes, tears still clinging along their edges.  He gently rubs the pad of his thumb first under one eye, then under the next, careful not to scratch unmarred flesh with his claw.  The unshed tears fall against his finger, and Water closes his eyes, though whether from pain or emotion Air doesn’t know.  “You know your horns are coming in, right?” Air asks him, quiet.  “That’s why you feel so bad.”

Water sighs, the sound watery and miserable, and tilts slightly to the side to lean against Air.  “I know,” he says, while Air wraps an arm around his bare shoulders.  His skin feels chilly under his hand, probably from lying on top of the blankets in nothing but his shorts.  So Air gives him a little squeeze, pulling him closer.  Water continues, “That’s what Brindle said, today.  I thought I—I dunno.  I should have just said something to you, but I thought it was just a bad headache.  And I’m strong enough to handle a headache without _whining_.  But this just keeps getting worse…”

“And I’m sorry.  But it’s not going to get better for a while,” Air tells him, then ducks to nuzzle his cheek when he gives a quiet little whine. 

“Yeah.  I figured.”  He sighs again, then rubs his forehead against Air’s shoulder.  “I’m so tired.  I haven’t been able to sleep because it’s just…  It always hurts.”

Air purrs quietly.  “I have medicine for pain,” he tells him.  

“I know.  I took the acetaminophen.  It didn’t do anything.”  He shrugs, rubbing his face a few more times against Air’s shoulder.  “I think this is too bad to…”

“No, I have some other medicine.”  Air stands, pushing Water’s hair back from his face as the boy looks up at him.  “I’ll get it.  Just lie back down and try to relax.”

He’s silently happy that the boy just collapses down where he is once Air gets up, as opposed to going back across the room and climbing into his own bed.  _Yes.  You’re **my** offspring, **my** blood_ , he thinks.  _And you know you can come to **me**.  As long as I breath, you come to **me** …_

He starts a pot of water boiling over the small fire burning in the fireplace, then makes his way into the washroom, using the walls to balance himself.  He finds the opium tincture where he’d last hidden it, in the back of the cabinet under the sink, where they keep their extra toiletries.  He hadn’t really wanted Water getting hold of it, deciding he liked it, and then sharing it amongst his friends. 

Not that Air is opposed to that sort of thing.  He’d just prefer the boy ask him for some weed or absinthe, as opposed to using up the good pain medicine he’d managed to steal from the clinic…

Water is digging his face into the mattress when Air makes his way out of the washroom with the opium, so Air quickly makes the boy a cup of hot chamomile and honey, then mixes in a few drops of the medication.  Water is unimpressed when Air returns—he scowls when Air lays a hand on his hip and offers him the tea.  “Tea?” Water asks, incredulous. 

“Opium,” Air corrects.  “You shouldn’t be able to taste it in the tea.”

“Oh.”  He rolls over and sits up against the headboard before taking the proffered mug.  “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, little one.” He kisses him once on the top of his head, before carefully standing again to get his own cup of tea, sans opium. 

And the fact that Water doesn’t protest being called ‘little one’ tells Air more about his pain level than anything else…

The bed is plenty big enough for the both of them—a bed for two, the same bed he used to sleep in next to his Water Ghoulette.  So he rids himself of his cassock and climbs in next to Water, black trousers and bare chest and bare feet.  He sits up against the headboard like his son and closes his eyes, his cup of tea warm in his hands.  Water sighs beside him, letting his head fall against his shoulder. 

Air looks over at him, at his still-full cup.  “Drink that,” he tells him, gently.  “All of it.”

“Yes, _Pa_ ,” Water answers, sounding exasperated.  Still he raises his head long enough to take a few sips before resting it on Air’s shoulder again.  And Air can remember this with his other two offspring, can remember this _exact same moment_ like deja-vu…

Sitting in the blankets, a child next to him, their head on his shoulder and their body tensed in pain, while he offered them comfort the best he knew how. 

His hand finds Water’s head, claws gentle against his scalp, before he presses fingers against the boy’s temple.  He massages with light pressure at first, from his temple up and along his browbone and then higher.  Up his forehead to one of the knots there, hard bone growing into a horn and pressing against the skin tissue.  Water flinches and whines at first, so Air softens his touch even further, and feels Water relax against him. 

He smiles, and asks his boy, “Good?”

“Mmm.”  Water pulls away for a few more sips of tea, before laying his head down again.  “Yeah.”

“I did this for our other two,” Air murmurs, once again massaging the boy’s forehead.  “It seemed to help.”

He realizes his mistake as soon as Water picks his head up and looks at him.  “Other two what?”

And there are certain things that he has not spoken to the boy about.  Not because he doesn’t want him to know, or hadn’t ever planned on telling him.  But there are things that weigh heavy on Air’s heart, and are difficult to discuss.  Like his other two offspring, and his Mate.

He’d told Water how his mother had died years ago, but only because he had asked.  The child’s broken apology at the information—as though it was personally his fault that his mother had died birthing him—had ruined Air on a very deep, visceral level.

But the boy has asked another question now, and so Air answers, “Offspring.”

Water is quiet for a long moment, but then, “I have brothers?  Or sisters?”

“No.”  Air sighs, and brushes the hair back from the boy’s face.  “They’re no longer on this earth.”

“Oh.”  A deep breath.  “You’ve never said anything about them before.”

“It’s…  Difficult to talk about.  Even to think about, sometimes,” he says.  “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you.”

Water nods, then takes a few more sips of his tea.  Air resumes massaging his skull once he settles back in.  “What happened to them?” Water eventually asks.

“The ghoul was killed in battle,” Air answers, quiet, closing his eyes against the hurt.  “The ghoulette…  She left the castle with a clerical assembly.  It was during the Inquisition.  None returned.”

“A brother and a sister,” Water muses softly.  Then, “If they just didn’t return—she could still be alive.  Right?”

He sounds so naively hopeful.  Air sighs.  “It’s been over 200 years,” he says.  “She’s gone.”

Water doesn’t reply at first, and Air just listens to the boy’s breathing, the sound of his throat working when he drinks more of his tea, the rustle of the sheets as he stretches his legs and flexes his toes.  Then, Water says quietly, “I’m sorry, _Pa_.  I know you’ve lost a lot…”

“Don’t apologize,” Air says, shaking his head.  “I have you.” 

Water purrs in reply, nuzzling at Air’s shoulder, and Air smiles, pushing the boy’s hair back from his face before going to the other knot on his forehead.  He circles it with gentle fingers, light pressure, and feels Water press against his hand. 

“Have you finished your tea?” Air asks, bringing his own cooling cup to his lips as he glances over at Water.

“Almost.”  The boy swirls the dregs around the bottom before downing the last of it, then leans away to set the cup on the floor by the bed.  “I don’t feel better yet…”

Air chuckles.  “Give it a bit.  You’ll probably be passed out cold in thirty minutes.”

“Pfft,” Water huffs.  “Okay, sure.”

And the boy hasn’t fallen asleep in Air’s bed since he was six-years-old—a particularly vicious bout of pneumonia leaving him miserable, wheezing and feverish and shaking with the chills.  Air can remember him, still so small, his little claws digging into skin while he curled against Air’s chest. 

Now, he drools on Air’s shoulder and snuffles in his sleep, not quite as small but still mostly the same as far as Air is concerned.  Air continues with massaging his head even after the boy has drifted off, and he closes his eyes and drinks his tea, enjoying the quiet of the moment. 

And he thinks, even with all he has lost…  He wouldn’t trade _this_ for any of it.

~*~

The next morning finds Air trailing the castle ramparts.  It’s early, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon, and the cool mountain air blows his cloak and cassock around his body.  He pulls his garments tighter around himself as he spots his target perched in the watchtower: Brindle, one of the three commanders of the Unholy Guard. 

The fire ghoul notices his approach long before he ascends the steps up to the top of the tower.  Air can see his amber eyes watching, forever alert and on-guard.  He gives a cursory nod once Air comes to stand in front of him, the expression is his eyes mild and easy.  “It’s been a long time, brother,” Brindle says.  “What brings you all the way up here?”

“It has been a long time,” Air agrees, before getting straight to the point.  “Water will not be at his post today.”

 _And probably not tomorrow, or the next few days either_ , Air thinks idly.  He’d woken that morning to the sounds of the boy retching into the sink, his growing pains apparently back with a vengeance.  So he’d made him more tea and put him back in the bed.  Shown him how much opium to mix in and told him how often he could take it—after all, Water would be by himself in the nest most of the day.  Even though Air did promise to come by and check on him if he had the chance.

When Air had left, the boy had been curled up in his bed, _Air’s_ bed, Air’s pillow clutched to his chest and pressed against his face.  The smell of family and home and blood was apparently comforting to him, and that knowledge had left Air with a warmth set deep in his chest.

But while in Air’s world there is only one Water Ghoul that matters, Brindle doesn’t seem to follow.  “Which Water are we talking about?” the fire ghoul asks.  “I command four.”

Air grunts.  “Mine,” he answers.  “Still young.”

There’s a long, ringing silence that grates at Air’s nerves, before Brindle says, “I should have realized.  I’ve been wondering where he came from.  Thought maybe he’d been feral—but he’s your offspring?  That explains fucking everything…”

“Explains what?” Air asks, dubious.

Brindle laughs.  “His power!”

“Mmm…”  Air shrugs.  He definitely can’t argue with that. 

 “For some reason, I thought yours was younger,” Brindle says, frowning. 

“The time passes quickly.”  Air sighs.  “He is young, though.  His horns are just coming in.  He was bad this morning.  I gave him something for pain and put him back in the bed.”

“Yes, I know.  I could tell yesterday.  In fact, I wasn’t expecting him today.”  Brindle fixes Air with a level stare.  “I will be honest with you, brother, we have known each other a long time.  When the clergy first told me they were sending me an eighteen-year-old, I fought them tooth and claw.  It’s far too young…”

Air nods, because he understands.  He feels the same way. 

“But Water has proven to be, well, exceptional in most all arenas.  I’ve stopped fighting the assignment because I do not want to lose him as one of my regulars.  It’ll be worth waiting for him to come into himself.  I’ll work with him—when he needs the time off, he’ll get the time off.  He’s worth waiting for.”

Air nods, and says what he’s already thinking.  “He’s going to start cycling ruts soon.”

Brindle chuckles.  “Like I said—when he needs the time off, he’ll get the time off.”

“Alright.”  Air smooths down his cloak.  “Do you need me to speak to the clergy on his behalf?  He’s not going to be at his post tomorrow, either.”

“It’s already taken care of,” Brindle says, smirking.  “He has a week.  If he needs more, come speak to me.  I trust your judgment.”

Air nods.  “Very well.”

“Mmm.”  Brindle grins.  “I’m glad we had this discussion.”

“Indeed.” Air returns his smile.  “If the boy ever gives you any trouble, let me know.”

“He never has, but if he does?”  Brindle laughs.  “You’ll see him running from my fire all the way ‘round the castle.”

Air just shakes his head, before bidding the other farewell and heading back down toward the library.  He’s already late now, and while he doesn’t expect any of the clergy to hassle him, he doesn’t want Water Ghoulette to think he’s abandoned her. 

And when he checks on Water during lunch, the boy is sound asleep, his face still pressed into Air’s pillow…

 


	3. Chapter 3

June 29th, 1966.

Air lies in the grass, watching as his son splashes in the lake with another water ghoul, an aether ghoul, and a few sisters.  The moonlight plays off the water, casting their skin in shades of grey and blue.  Water’s slate horns are turned pearlescent in the gleam.  It’s all beautiful, in a way.  Ethereal and unreal.  Air wonders if he’s dreaming…

Has it really been twenty years?

 _Demons_ , he’s drunk…

He hiccups, reaching to the side for the vodka, and growls when it isn’t there.  Someone laughs at him, low and stoned, and Air squints to find Omega sitting in the grass, bottle in one hand and joint in the other.  Alpha swishes his tail from behind him, lazily scratching his chest, while Water Ghoulette purrs drowsily from her spot sprawled across Air’s stomach. 

Air snaps his fingers at Omega, then holds out his hand in a silent request.

“So demanding,” Omega comments.  “What?  Which do you want?  The alcohol or the joint?”

“Both,” Air answers.  Omega hands him the vodka first, then hands him the joint after taking a last drag himself.  Air accepts them both, and takes a swig straight from the bottle as soon as it’s in his hand. 

“I don’t know how you do that,” Ghoulette comments, shaking her head.  “Tastes foul.”

“It’s not so bad,” Alpha mumbles, eyes closed.  “He just wants to be drunk, anyway.”

“Oh, he already is,” Omega chimes in.

Air grunts, shoving the joint between his lips and dropping the bottle on the ground by his side.  Ghoulette grabs it before it can fall and spill, setting it straight in the grass, while Air closes his eyes.  He inhales on the smoke, holds, and exhales—then just lies on his back and listens.  He can hear the splashing from the lake, can hear Omega murmuring sweet words to Alpha, can hear Water Ghoulette’s steady breathing…

_It’s really been twenty years._

Twenty years since Water came into this world.  It’s a day of celebration, of happiness.  And while the ghoul-kin don’t acknowledge it as a ‘birthday’ quite like the humans, they always jump on any excuse to party.  To eat and drink and smoke and fuck.  They’ve drawn a small crowd around the lake with their festivity, ghoul-kin and clergy alike, some that Air knows and some that he doesn’t.  They all seem to be having a good time.

Except it has also been twenty years since his Mate left this world.  A horrible, miserable day—or it would be, had she not gifted him with a son in her passing.  As is, it is still bittersweet, and he gets stuck in the past, his memories haunting him.

He can remember the moment the bond broke like it was yesterday, that sudden and ringing emptiness throughout his entire being.  It’s an emptiness he still feels, though most days now are better than they were.  Most days Water smiles at him, and they talk and play, drink wine and laugh…  And Air forgets to feel the void. 

But then some days, like this one, he _can’t_ forget.

Not all the memories are bad, though.  There are certain ones that cling to his consciousness stronger than others.  Like the first time he laid eyes on his Mate.  And of course, the evening they’d consummated their bond.  How she’d always laughed at his idiosyncrasies, and liked to be held at night while she slept.  The way she’d held their infants in her arms.  And the way she’d looked while she was pregnant with Water, her belly round and full, her smile bright and excited…

 _It’s not fair_ , he thinks.  _It’s not fair that she’s not here to see our child.  She would be so happy for him.  So proud._

“Your offspring is going to be balls-deep in that sister before the night’s over.”  Alpha’s words jerk Air out of his thoughts, and the old ghoul growls, craning his neck to look over at the lake.  He doesn’t see Water at first, but the young aether ghoul is naked and running around the lake’s edge, an equally naked sister slung over his shoulder and squealing in delight.

Air has to squint to find the two water ghouls.  He eventually spots one laid out in the shallows, two sisters sitting by his side, both touching the ghoul’s horns and tail with idle fascination.  And then there is his Water sitting a bit further in, the water lapping around his naked hips and thighs.  There is a sister with him as well—her arms wrapped around his neck, her breasts pressed to his side, and her lips against his ear. 

Air is struck between possessiveness and pride.  He knows rationally that the boy is being good, is doing as he should.  He is old enough now to know lust and enjoy pleasure, two things that the One Below smiles upon.  Yet Air still feels an deep-seated urge to go and chase the sister away.  That is _his_ offspring she is hanging all over.  He’s held that little boy in his arms, rocked him to sleep and dried his tears.

He’s closer to Water than is usual, than they probably should be.  Air knows this.  Most offspring are out of their parents’ nest by the time they are twenty, are nesting with a group of a similar sign and age.  And while it had never happened with any of Air’s offspring, it was still common for youngsters to grow distant once out of the nest, to even lose contact altogether.

But Water has not expressed any interest in leaving, and Air certainly does not _want_ to him to go, so he says nothing about it.  Water continues to sleep on the far side of the nest.  And Air does his best to give him what privacy he can in their small space, now that the boy is all but an adult…

Which is why he fights back his possessive urges with a growl, and rolls over onto his side, back to the lake.  Alpha chuckles, while Water Ghoulette moves with him, purring softly.  “Don’t worry,” she murmurs, lips against his ear.  “He’s seen you.  He knows to be gentle to the humans.”

“That’s not why he’s growling,” Omega speaks up knowingly.  Air cuts his eyes over at him, but the other ghoul is busy rolling a new joint. 

Alpha chimes in, “Let him go, _Pap_ _à_.  He’s grown.”

 _But he’s all I have left_ , Air thinks.  Which isn’t strictly true.  He has his work, the castle and the clergy.  He has his friends, the other air ghouls, Alpha and Omega.  He has Water Ghoulette, her softness and tranquility, her sweet smile… 

_But Water is all I have left of my Mate.  Of our Bond.  When I look at him, I see us together, and I feel her presence.  And everything is beautiful…_

“It’s not that simple,” Omega says, quiet, his tone heavy.  The tone of an aether ghoul with a deeper understanding.  Air narrows his eyes at him, suspicious, but Omega says nothing further.  He just holds the rolled up smoke out to Alpha, and waits for the fire ghoul to light it for him. 

Alpha begins chuckling suddenly, eyes turned toward the lake while he holds a small flame in his hand for Omega.  Despite himself, Air turns to follow Alpha’s gaze, and finds Water on his feet holding the sister astraddle his waist, their lips locked in a heated kiss.  He’s pulling his legs underneath himself without thought, preparing to stand and chase the woman away.

Water Ghoulette preempts him, though, and sprawls herself on top of him, hands cupping his face and a leg thrown over his hip.  He grunts at her, baring his teeth halfheartedly, though he would never intentionally growl and snarl at her in threat.  She is far too kind to him for that sort of behavior. 

And she says to him, “Leave him be.”  Her lips trail along his cheek and his jaw, and then she nips at him, gentle and playful.  “I want you.  Fuck me.  Right here.”

Air grunts again, but for a different reason now, heat curling in his belly at her words.  He hears Alpha and Omega moving around, and turns his head to look.  Omega is watching them both in interest, while Alpha has wrapped his arms around his Mate, head propped on his shoulder so he can see.  “Nosey,” Air tells them.

“Mmm.  Let’s see what you got left in you,” Omega says. 

“Yeah,” Alpha chimes in.  “You always fucked your Mate in private.  Never got to see.”

“You always fuck him in private,” Air points out, and goes to gesture at Omega.  But Ghoulette’s hands are in his trousers, and he ends up petting her hair instead.  Omega chuckles at him. 

He glances back to the lake one last time, just to make sure Water has wandered off with his bitch of a clergy sister.  But his child is nowhere in sight, so he take hold of Ghoulette and flips them over, settling overtop her.  She purrs at him, forever sweet and playful, and leans up to nip at his lips.  He nips back, before pulling her in for a kiss. 

“Yeah…” Omega mumbles, though Air is unsure whether it’s directed at them or Alpha.  He can hear the other ghoul purring, that sort of low, soft noise that says more than any words ever could.  It makes Air miss his Mate, miss being like _this_ with her.  Feeling her thighs wrapped around his waist.  Reaching between her legs and pushing her panties to the side.  Stroking her, rubbing her clit, feeling her wet beneath his fingers and smelling her arousal.

He doesn’t pretend a lot.  Most of the time he stays in the moment, enjoys Ghoulette for all that she is—sweet and spirited and sexy.  But sometimes… sometimes it’s easy to fall into the past.  To imagine it’s a different Water Ghoulette underneath him. 

At least he’s not alone.  Ghoulette has cried out ‘Aether’ a few times over the years in the heat of the moment.  She always apologized afterwards, and then cried quietly against his chest.  But he just shushed her and cradled her close, because _fuck_ , he understood.  He understood all too well.

And he’ll feel guilty about this later.  Because when he eases inside of her and hisses _‘Ghoulette…’_ against her skin, he’s actually saying another’s name.  But she is hot and tight and wet around him, and he lets himself pretend just for a moment.  Just for tonight.

“Yeah, fuck her good, you old ghoul,” Alpha says from beside him, and Omega laughs.  Ghoulette giggles, then purrs in pleasure, and Air bites at her neck and continues to pretend. 

But only just for tonight…

~*~

It’s late, very late, when Air returns to the nest.

He figures he’s given his boy enough privacy—enough time to do as he please, to enjoy the sister and be done with her.  Air’s tired now.  Sleepy.  Sobering up and feeling the effects. 

But when he opens up the door, he finds the sister asleep in his offspring’s bed, the sheets covering her naked body.  And perhaps if he was in a better mood, if it was a different day, he would be able to handle himself better.  However, he throws her and the covers off the bed with a sharp gust of wind, and smiles at her startled cry when she hits the floor. 

“Where’s my offspring?” he asks her, while she clutches the sheets to herself, staring up at him in horror.

“Uhm—uh—uhm…” she begins, looking around wildly.  Air realizes she doesn’t know where he is.  Or doesn’t know he’s Air’s offspring.  Or both…  “The other ghoul?  The bathroom light is on.  Maybe he’s…?”

And on cue, Water calls from inside the washroom, “I’m in here, _Pa_.  I’m taking a bath.”

“Okay,” Air answers him.  Then, to the sister, with a pointed gesture at the door.  “You.  Out.  Now.”

She doesn’t argue, doesn’t even bother trying to cover herself.  She just leaps from the floor and runs stark naked out of the room, apparently terrified, unprepared to come face-to-face with a ghoul as old and powerful as Air.  He smirks as the door shuts behind her. 

“Must be new,” he muses to himself, wandering over to the washroom.  The door is half-closed, artificial light spilling out through the opening, so Air knocks on the doorframe.  “Can I come in?” he asks.  “I want to get ready for bed.  I’m tired.”

“Yeah,” Water replies, sounding tired as well.  When Air lets himself inside, he finds the boy in the tub, using his magic to rinse the soap from his hair.  The sight makes him grin, and Water meets his gaze with a little smile. 

“Happy Twentieth,” he tells his boy, quiet. 

“Thank you,” Water says, hands going to splash in the bathwater, apparently done with his hair.  He breaks away from Air’s gaze, eyes on the floor by Air’s feet, and Air’s knows his child too well.  Something is wrong. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks, turning away toward the sink and trying to stay nonchalant.  He could be asking about anything—and he is.  Except there is only one thing that has happened tonight that was out of the ordinary. 

He’s ninety-nine percent sure the boy has never had sex before.  Not before tonight, at least.  If he has, then he’s been sneaky as hell about it. 

“Yeah,” Water answers him, though he sounds unsure about it.  Air glances back at him through the mirror over the sink, but the boy is still looking at the floor.  Water adds suddenly, “Thanks for getting rid of her…”

Air can’t help but laugh.  “Not a problem,” he says.  Then, “You know, you could have asked her to leave, if you didn’t want her to stay.”

The boy doesn’t reply at first, just plays in the bathwater again.  So Air turns the faucet on to wash his face, and peels his shirt off to run a washcloth over his chest and the back of his neck.  He’d swam in the lake with Ghoulette after they’d mated, so he knows he doesn’t smell like her anymore.  But now he feels like he has lake dirt all over himself.

Water finally speaks up.  “It was weird enough anyway.  I didn’t want to say anything.”

Air tries not to grin, he really does try.  “First time is always awkward,” he says.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“I just—wait…”  Water sits up in the tub, claws scraping against the side as he grips the edges, and levels Air with an indignant stare.  “How did you know it was my first time?” he asks, then immediately tries to backtrack.  “Or you—you’re assuming…”

“You’re my offspring, and you still nest here with me,” Air says, turning back to grab a towel and dry his face.  “I know you like the back of my damn hand.”

There’s a long silence after that.  Air hangs up his towel then takes a piss, and is about to leave the washroom to finish undressing and lie down.  But then Water says, his tone somehow both infuriated and terrified, “You don’t know as much as you think.”

Air stops in the doorway, and turns back to look at his child.  Water’s eyes are on the ceiling, tears hanging in their corners, and Air’s heart lurches in his chest.  “Water, I…” he says gently, and gives a forlorn sigh.  “If something is wrong, you’re going to have to tell me.”

 “It’s not _something_ ,” Water says after a moment.  He closes his eyes.  “It’s _me_.”

“What?”  Air furrows his brows, confused.

“It’s me,” Water repeats, eyes still closed.  “There’s something wrong with _me_.”

“That’s not true,” Air answers him immediately, turning back.  He puts the lid down on the toilet so that he has a place to sit, and seats himself.  Water turns miserable eyes on him, and so Air reiterates, “That’s not true.  You’re everything I could ever ask for in an offspring.”

“You don’t understand.”  Water shakes his head, and looks back at the ceiling.  There’s another long silence, before the boy finally admits in a shaky whisper, “I couldn’t at first, not with the sister.  Not until I thought about Water.  And Brindle.  And then it was, well, _okay_ but…  I closed my eyes and pretended the whole time that she was—that she was someone else.  A ghoul.  _Male_.”

And well, that is not exactly what Air had been expecting.  He wants to ask, _That’s all?  You just prefer ghouls, or men?  All this heartache over **that?**_   But they’ve never discussed this—attraction to the same gender, homosexuality and bisexuality—and the church stays oddly quiet on the matter in the 1960s.  In fact, Air knows that Alpha and Omega still take a lot of flack from the higher clergy for not being able to reproduce, for not passing on their power.  So who knows what the boy has heard from others?

Once again, Air realizes he’s dropped the ball…  His Ghoulette was always so much better at these kinds of things.

“Water, you know…”  Air sighs.  “You know that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Yes, it _does_ ,” Water shoots back.  “We’re supposed to like ghoulettes.  Supposed to want to mate with ghoulettes.”

And Air only knows one way to counter that.  “You know Alpha and Omega, right?”

Water scowls at him, apparently already knowing where this is going.  “Yeah.”

“And you know they’re a pair-bond?”

Water sighs, rolling his eyes.  “Yes, of course.”

“Which means that they like each other, and mate with each other.”

“ _Pa_ ,” Water growls, exasperated. 

“And they’re two ghouls.  _Males_.”

“ _Pa!_ ”

“Alpha’s the strongest pyro here,” Air points out.  “A named commander of the guard.  Do you think there’s something wrong with him because he bonded with a ghoul?”

Water sighs, before reluctantly admitting, “No…”

“And Omega is the strongest scryer here,” Air continues.  “Do you think there is something wrong with _him_ because he bonded with another ghoul?”

“No, of course not,” Water says, eyes on the bubbles in the tub. 

“Okay, then.”  Air waits for the boy to say anything more, but he stays quiet, fingers dragging through the bathwater around him.  Finally, Air asks, “Do you understand me?”

Water huffs a laugh at that, and gives Air a watery little smile.  “Yeah.  Thanks.  You…”  He sighs, shaking his head.  “You’re not upset?”

“Of course not.”  Air stands, smiling down at his boy, and steps over to ruffle his wet hair.  “Like I said, you’re everything I could have asked for.  And I just want you happy.”

Water purrs at him quietly before looking down at his hands, still busy playing in the bathwater.  And it’s after Air has already turned away and begun to leave that he hears the boy murmur, “Love you, _Pa_.”

He pauses in the bathroom doorway, and looks back one last time.  “And I love _you_ , my boy.”

~*~

It happens three weeks later.

“ _Pa…_ ” 

Air blinks bleary eyes open, unsure at first what woke him. 

“ _Pa_ , wake up.  Please…” 

His son’s voice from behind him, but it sounds odd, a strange timbre and pitch.  He feels the boy’s hand grab his shoulder and shake him slightly.  

“ _Pa…_ ”

Water’s hand is clammy and burning hot against his skin, and Air turns over in bed toward him with a worried frown.  He’s concerned that the boy may be ill, but he doesn’t find a sick ghoul by his bed, rather finds himself looking up at wide, hazy, lust-blown eyes.  He’s already pushing himself out of bed before anything else registers—like the flush across the boy’s cheeks and shoulders, the sweat beading on his chest and brow, the agitated flicking of his tail. 

“I don’t feel well,” Water tells him, then digs his claws into the palms of his hands.  Air reaches for him as he stands, trying to keep him from hurting himself.  Water continues, “I feel—weird.  I’m so hot, and itchy.  And shit…  Wait, I need to piss.”

“No, you don’t,” Air preempts him, grabbing his arm before the boy can leave for the bathroom.  _You want to mark your territory,_ he thinks _, but you don’t understand what that feels like yet…_   The boy snarls at him for stopping him, which only confirms what Air’s already figured out. 

He’s going into rut.

“Come on, put some clothes on.  We need to get moving,” Air tells him, before going to his dresser to grab a shirt and trousers. 

“It’s two in the morning,” Water complains, scratching at his chest.  “I don’t want to _go_ anywhere.  I just _feel_ bad.  And I can’t get back to sleep.  Ugh, for fuck’s sake…”

“Get dressed.  Now,” Air snaps, getting more concerned the more he looks at his offspring.  He’s seen youngsters in their first few years of cycling go from ‘feeling warm’ to ripping off clothing in less than 15 minutes.  They don’t have time to mess around right now. 

“Ok, ok,” Water says, pulling out a cassock from his own dresser.  Air doesn’t bother telling him not to wear proper church clothing.  He just pulls his own clothes on, then does a last minute check while he waits for his offspring. 

He snatches the boy’s pillow off his bed before ushering him out the door and then down into the bowels of the castle.  Air supposes it’ll be good for him to have something comforting, something that smells like their nest while he’s locked away.  It’s all he can do for the boy at this point…

And as they descend the steps down into the dungeon, Water asks, “I’m going into rut, aren’t I?”

Air swallows and nods.  “Yes, you are.”

There’s a long stretch of silence.  They make their way down the last of the stone steps, and the huge dungeon doors loom in front of them.  A sister sits outside the doors on a chair, a ghoul tasked to guard hulking over her shoulder.  The sister is sleeping on the job, but the ghoul perks up at their approach.  He steps forward, and calls to them, “Halt!  Don’t come closer!”

Water growls under his breath, but stops as instructed.  Air grabs at the boy’s wrist as they stop, and calls to the guard, “My offspring needs to go into the dungeon.”

The guard ghoul takes a step toward them, while Water sidles closer to Air’s side.  Then, the guard asks stupidly, “Is he in rut _now_?”

Air looks down at his offspring—his dazed eyes, his sweaty face, his shaking hands—before snapping back at the guard, “No, not _now_ , but let’s keep talking out here.  Wait until he attacks someone.”

The guard glares at him, then motions them both forward.  So Air takes a step, attempting to pull Water along with him, but he finds the boy rooted to the spot.  When he looks back over his shoulder and meets his offspring’s wild eyes, Water tells him, “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are,” Air replies, frowning.  He tugs on the boy’s wrist again, trying to get him to move, but Water just pulls back against him.  “You don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll go back to the nest.  Lie down.  I think maybe I’m just sick,” Water tries.  Then, apparently knowing Air wasn’t going to buy that, “I’ll be good, I promise.  I won’t attack anyone.  I just want to go back to the nest.”

And Air sees it then, honestly isn’t sure how he didn’t see it earlier.  The boy’s not being stubborn—he’s _scared_.  “Water.  It’s okay,” Air tells him, and pulls the boy into a tight hug.  Air can feel him growl at the contact, at the same time as he presses his face against Air’s shoulder, looking for comfort.  “It’ll just be for a few days.  Then you’ll be back in your own nest again, alright?”

Water heaves a heavy, strained sigh before pulling away. 

“It’ll be alright, kid.”  The guard steps up next to them, a massive fire ghoul with broad shoulders and a round gut.  Water looks up at him, tail swishing in frustrated agitation, while the guard adds, “This happens to everyone.”

Air nods in agreement, gently ushering his child forward.  “Just drink plenty of water—the sisters will bring you as much as you want, you just have to ask.  But stay hydrated,” he says.  “And eat and sleep when you can.”

“O-okay,” Water finally relents, taking his pillow from Air and then stumbling forward to follow the guard.  He looks back one last time at Air, who gives him an encouraging smile even as his own chest hurts with paternal worry. 

Air stays and watches as his son is taken to up to the front of the dungeon doors.  As the sister there, now awake, strips the boy out of cassock and shoes and underwear.  And finally, as the large dungeon doors are noisily opened, and Water is shepherded inside and out of sight.

“He still nests with you?” the guard asks, walking back up to Air after.  When Air nods, the ghoul hands him the boy’s clothes, neatly folded, the shoes on top. 

“Someone will get me when he’s out?” Air asks.

“I can ask them to,” he replies.  “I think they usually just send them to the clinic for a check, then release them…”

“Well, if he gets released right after, then I suppose there’s no need,” Air considers.  Then, “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this.”  _Not since Mate conceived…_  “I don’t remember protocol.”

The guard chuckles, glancing over his shoulder, and comments, “I don’t think protocol has changed in the past twenty-or-so-years.  Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

And with that, Air takes his leave, wishing all the while that this was something he could protect his son from.  Yet at the same time knowing that there is nothing he can do but pray.

~*~

The nest is so quiet without his offspring…

Air doesn’t sleep after he leaves Water in the dungeons, and barely sleeps the next night.  It’s a mixture of things, really.  His worry over the boy keeps his mind too occupied, keeps him from being able to relax. 

These first cycles are always the worst.  Their young bodies have to adjust to the sex hormones running rampant, and then they are alone all the while, desperate and confused and exhausted. 

His first offspring, the young air ghoul, had torn himself apart during his first ruts.  And Air’s heart hurts to think he might find Water in that same state in just a few days.

But also, Air has not slept in a nest alone in over 600 years, not since he’d bonded with his Water Ghoulette.  And since her passing, he’s had Water.  There has always been movement and noise and a presence with him in the night.  Whether it was his Mate’s warm body in the bed next to him, or the soft cooing of baby Water in his bassinet, or Water now, his quiet snuffling from the other bed… 

And now, his nest is so _quiet_.

He stays with Water Ghoulette on the third night.  He doesn’t actually mean to, but he leaves the library with her and talks with her over supper.  They play cards and drink wine in her room afterward, before falling into bed together.  And it seems he’s just rolled off of her, nuzzled her cheek and told her how amazing she felt, when he’s waking up in the early hours of the morning.

He blinks in the dark of the room, looking around himself, and finds Ghoulette asleep next to him.  She still smells like him, like his sweat and his semen, and he rolls over closer to her, burying his face in the back of her neck.  He thinks he’ll leave in just a moment, after he’s held Ghoulette for just a few more minutes, listened to her steady breathing and enjoyed her warmth. 

Here, things are not so quiet.

She wakes as he pulls away to leave the bed, and she reaches out for him with a purr, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy.  “Stay,” she tells him.  “I don’t mind if you stay…”

And he looks down at her, at where she’s lying with the blankets draped across her hips, her soft stomach and round breasts bared to him, her hand held out to pull him back into the bed.  _I’ve known you intimately for a while now, haven’t I?_   It’s a sudden realization, something he thinks he probably should have realized sooner.  It’s been almost ten years since he first started sleeping with her, even longer since he’s counted her as a friend.  But he doesn’t have the energy for another emotional crisis right now, and just says, “I’m worried about Water.”

“I know,” she says, rolling over in the bed toward him, close enough to touch his arm.  “He’s not in your nest right now, though.  Stay here, get some sleep.”

He sighs, relenting, and eases back into the bed next to her.  She purrs happily, nuzzling against his shoulder, and he tells her, “It’s just so… _quiet_ at home without him.”

“Mmm, I didn’t even think about that,” she says.  “I just assumed you were worried, that’s why you haven’t been sleeping.”

He chuckles, settling into the blankets.  “Is it that obvious?”

She presses a brief kiss to his brow, and answers, “Darling, you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She gives him a gentle smile, and adds, “I’ve also never seen you fall asleep here.  You doze a little now and then, afterward.  But last night?  You came, rolled over, and then you were out…”

He grunts.  “Sorry…”

“Nah, that’s not—you needed to sleep,” she says.  She strokes her hand down his side.  “And I didn’t mind.  I had another glass of wine and a smoke, then went to sleep myself.”

He purrs to her, while her fingers trail over his stomach, around his belly-button, and lower. And it would peak his interest if the situation were different—if he wasn’t still so worried about Water, and if he were about two centuries younger.  As is, it’s just a gentle touch, intimate, and he turns into her, throwing an arm over her side as he makes himself comfortable.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly.  “Stay here.  With me.”

 _With me_ …  His throat works as he swallows, and he breathes her in, her own distinctive scent currently mixed with his own.  Protectiveness and possessiveness roil in his gut, and not for the first time when it comes to this Ghoulette.  He bites it all down, because he has no right to feel the way he does.  They are not Mates.  It’s not proper that he develop such an attachment to this one ghoulette…

_I’ve known you intimately for a while now…_

He should be spending time with other ghoulettes, not continuing to encourage his own irresponsible feelings.  But he’s beginning to think he doesn’t know _how_.  He’d been bonded for so very, very long, and now that his Mate is gone, he has Ghoulette…

She is familiar and comforting.  She knows his strength and his depth, just as she knows his shortcomings and idiosyncrasies.  They’ve played together and laughed together, just as they’ve confided in each other their heartache and despair.  She, too, has a deep understanding of what it is like to be the one left behind.  And when she kisses his face and whispers sweet words to him, it is all just so _easy_.

And if he is wary of being with other ghoulettes now, well…  He is trying to move forward the best he knows how.  Though perhaps she feels the same.   He’s never scented another ghoul on her, nor has there ever been any other smells in her nest besides his and her own. 

But he is still sleepy, his eyes drooping.  Her breath is warm against his chest, and he feels her tail move under the blankets and drape over his thigh.  His anxiety over his offspring still clenches his chest, and he really, _really_ doesn’t have the energy to worry about this now, too.

So he closes his eyes, and hopes that with her next to him, he will be able to get to sleep once again.

~*~

Once five days have passed without Water’s return, Air goes to investigate.

He tries the clinic first, assuming the boy has injured himself severely enough to warrant being kept.  His heart beats fast on his way there, dreading what he’s going to find, but upon his arrival, the nurse sisters turn him away.  There are no young water ghouls being treated for injuries, only an older water ghoul with a kidney infection. 

So with nowhere else to look, Air marches down to the dungeons.  It’s been five days now—technically almost six.  The boy should be finished and out.  Air has no idea why he would still be down here, but he also has no idea where else to look.

There’s a different guard at the gates this time, a huge earth ghoul with deep green eyes, and he steps up with a growl to block Air’s approach.  It raises Air’s hackles, and he grunts in reply, throwing his shoulders back and meeting the other’s gaze without hesitation.  The sister sitting at the front of the gates yells at them, “Hey!  Knock it off!”

The guard deflates a bit, though Air only turns his glare on her.  He’s in _no_ mood.  “I’m looking for a water ghoul.  My offspring,” Air says.  “He went in over five days ago.  He should be out by now.”

The sister sighs, grabbing one of the log-books on the floor by her feet.  Meanwhile, the guard asks, “Did you check the clinic?”

Air thinks it would relieve a lot of stress to just fling him down the long hall with a strong gust a wind.  He restrains himself, though, and just snaps, “Yes, I’m not an idiot.”

The guard bristles at him, though the sister interrupts, “He’s still inside.”

“Still?” Air asks, concerned.

“Mmm,” the sister confirms, though gives no further information.  Either she doesn’t know anything, or she doesn’t care to share it with him. 

“We’re done here, then,” the guard ghoul says, before promptly showing Air back up the steps.  He brooks no argument about it, and Air doesn’t think that engaging in violence is going to get him anywhere.  So he silently takes himself to the library and begins work.

He goes through the same routine on the sixth and seventh days, first checking in the clinic and then trailing down to the dungeon.  The same sister and earth guard are stationed outside the doors both days, and he’s met with the same stony attitude and lack of information. 

By the eighth day, he is running on adrenaline and fried nerves, and has already decided that if that same earth ghoul is outside the dungeon doors, then he’s going to rip the son of a bitch apart.  He’s getting inside the dungeon somehow, even if it will send him into a rut himself.  His offspring is in there, and has been in there for far too long. 

Something is _wrong_.

However, the earth ghoul is not there, and is replaced instead with the same sister and fire ghoul that had been on duty when he’d first dropped Water off in the beginning.  He breathes a sigh of relief, because maybe, just _maybe_ , he’ll be able to get somewhere with them.

He knows he appears harsh, marching across the hallway toward them with intense purpose.  The sister stands from her chair, looking alarmed, while the fire ghoul steps in front of her, shoulders thrown back and head tilted in threat.  His horns may be covered with his hood, but the danger is clear.

Air can see the smoke puffing out from underneath the other ghoul’s mask as he comes to a stop in front of him, but he isn’t deterred.  He demands outright, “One of you is going to tell me where he is, and what has happened.  Or I am going in that dungeon _myself_.”

“I can’t let you go in there,” the fire ghoul tells him.

“Then I’ll go _through_ you,” Air tells him.

He half expects the other ghoul to scoff, to point out that he is a _fire_ ghoul and Air is an _air_ ghoul.  But the fact that he does not, that he actually takes a step back and to the side, tells Air a lot.  _He knows who I am, how old I am, and what I am…  Good._

“Who are you looking for, Ghoul?” the sister asks, grabbing that same log-book from off the ground. 

Before Air can answer, the fire ghoul says, “His offspring.  The little water ghoul.  We were both here the other night when…”

“The young water ghoul?” the sister interrupts, eye widening.

“Yes,” Air answers, not at all liking the look on her face.

“His first cycle?”

“Yes…”

She swallows, putting the log-book back on the floor.  “Last I heard, they were planning on releasing him to the clinic this evening,” the sister says, frowning.  “He’s been… struggling.  Not eating or sleeping much, not drinking much anymore either.”  Air’s chest clenches and aches, while the sister continues, “We had to have a clinic sister come in to stitch up a wound on his stomach—it wouldn’t have been able to wait until after, he already lost a lot of blood as it was.”

And Air is shoving past the guard ghoul without thinking, claws scraping against the old wood as he slams himself into the dungeons doors.  “Let me in!” he snarls, protective instinct overruling common sense.  _My offspring, my boy, let me in…!_

“No!”  Air feels the fire ghoul’s hands at the back of his cassock, burning hot, forcibly pulling him away from the doors.  “No, you stay here.  If you go in there, then you’ll end up locked in there yourself…”

And Air knows this rationally, but, “Water…”

“He’ll be in the clinic this evening,” the sister tells him, laying a tentative hand on his forearm.  “Wait for him.  Give him the rest of the day.  Like Fire said, if you open those doors and go in there, then we have to lock you in there, too…”

“You won’t be able to do much for your boy once he gets out, not if you’re locked up and in rut,” the fire ghoul points out. 

“I-I know,” Air says, quiet, because fuck, they’re right.  So he straightens his cassock once the fire ghoul lets him go, and then pulls his hood lower.  “Thank you, I lost myself for a moment.”

“It’s alright,” the fire ghoul says, and there’s a knowing look in his eye when Air meets his gaze.

“Go to the clinic this evening after you’re finished with your duties,” the sister suggests.  “He’ll probably be there by then.”

Air nods, planning to do just that, and takes his leave.

He finds the day can’t pass quickly enough.

~*~

“I’m here for Water,” he tells the first nurse sister he finds in the clinic, one he has already seen several times earlier that week while looking for his child. 

“Oh, you again,” she says with a scowl.  Then, “Yeah, he’s finally here.  Fourth bed on the right.  Do me a favor, and see if you can’t get him to shut up.”

Air snarls at her response, baring his teeth, but she’s already turned her back on him, hustling down the rows with a stack of towels in her hands.  So he pulls himself together, and walks down toward the bed she’d claimed was Water’s. 

He can hear his child from outside the privacy curtains, and his heart breaks…

When Air pulls back the screen to let himself inside, he finds Water curled on his side on the clinic bed, a plain white sheet draped over his naked body.  He’s visibly shaking, so much so that the IV cord between his arm and the bag of fluids is jiggling.  And he’s softly whining, though it’s unlike any sort of noise Air has ever heard from the boy before.  A sort of keening whimper that screams of pain, torment, and misery. 

Air swallows back the sob stuck in his own throat, and says quietly, “Water…”

The boy flinches, shoulders jerking up to his ears, before he turns his head in the bed to look at Air.  “ _Pa_ ,” he sobs quietly, before pushing his cheek back into the pillow and closing his eyes.

And _this_ is not normal, not afterward.  Especially not after such an extended amount of time in rut.  The boy should be exhausted, should be sleeping, not still wired so high. 

He’d think Water were still in rut, if he didn’t smell fine.  Or at least, relatively fine.  As it is, he smells like they barely washed him after getting him out of the dungeon—smells like stale sex and sweat.  It makes Air want to turn around and rale at the nurse sisters, because don’t they know how to do their jobs?

Air steps closer, getting a better look at his offspring.  The boy’s eyes are red-rimmed as though he’s been crying, though he seems to have run out of tears at that moment.  His hair is mussed up and curled in sweaty tendrils, stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck.  And here are shallow scratches down his cheeks where he has repeatedly raked his claws down his face, with marks to match across the tops of his shoulders where Air can see.  The sheet is pulled up to his chest, covering the rest of his body, and Air grabs the edge of it, pulling it down. 

He can remember the sister earlier that day saying that the boy had injured his stomach, and he just wants to see, to check the bandage.  He doesn’t mean to invade the boy’s privacy.  Water is lying on his side, in the fetal position.  Air doesn’t see that he’s erect until the sheet is already down, and then the boy’s bandaged stomach and erection both are visible.

Water squeals at him like a banshee, snatching the sheet out of his hand with bared teeth.  Air’s absurdly reminded of when the boy was eighteen, and he’d walked in on him touching himself in the bathroom.  It’s the same damned shriek of indignation.  He’d learned after that to knock before just walking in. 

But this is different.  He’s just out of a rut.  He shouldn’t even be capable of being physically aroused.

He hears a nurse sister’s heels clicking on the stone floor outside privacy screen, and then the voice of the same sister with the attitude who had greeted him upon his arrival.  “Stop screaming, Ghoul!  You’re upsetting the other patients.”

Water snarls at her when she snaps back the privacy curtain, and buries himself further under the sheet.  Meanwhile, Air turns on her, and growls, “What the fuck is happening to him?”

She rolls her eyes.  “Melodrama,” she says, stepping past him to check Water’s bag of fluid and electrolytes.  “They said it was his first rut—he’s apparently hysterical over it.”

Water snarls at her again, while Air tries to formulate a response to that bullshit.  “He’s still in rut,” he begins.  Except that he’s not, or at least Air doesn’t really think so.  But, “He doesn’t smell right.  And he’s in pain.  And he’s still aroused.”

“ _Pa!_ ” Water squalls.  Air ignores the boy’s protests—this is a health issue, beyond being self-conscious about the sexuality of it.  There is something _wrong_. 

The sister rolls her eyes once again.  “He smells because he fought me the entire time I was trying to help him wash—which yes, I saw he was ‘aroused’,” she says.  And then, before Air can say anything, “And he’s not in pain, he’s _whining_.”

“My offspring doesn’t _whine_ ,” Air snarls.

“ _Pa_ ,” Water murmurs, tone gone soft.  Air turns to him, as natural as breathing, and the boy looks up at him with wretched blue-green eyes.  “Wanna go back to the nest,” he says.

“You can’t yet,” the sister tells him.

But Air’s already decided.  “Yes, he can.  I can watch him,” he says. 

“You…”

“It wasn’t a request.  I _am_ taking him with me,” Air continues, preempting whatever the sister had been about to say.  “I will request a clean cassock for him, though.  Or something.  Just to cover him.”

“He needs to be here overnight,” the sister continues to argue, stony-faced.  “He needs rest, and fluids.”

“He can rest in his own bed,” Air snaps.  “And I can get him what he needs to drink.  I can even put him in a bathtub and get him _clean_.”

“Shut up!”  Water pushes himself up to sit, throwing his legs off the side of the bed and settling on the edge.  He throws the pillow down over his lap, before grabbing his head in his hands and bending over in half.  “It hurts,” he mumbles.  “And you are so _loud_ …  Shut up.”

Air frowns at him, worried, while the sister throws her hands in the air in exasperation.  “Fine!” she relents.  “Fine, take him.  Not my problem anymore.  I’ve fucking _tried_.”

“Shut up…” Water whimpers, shaking his head.

“I’ll get a cassock,” the sister says.  “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Air answers, quiet, and sits next to Water on the bed.  Water continues to shiver, refusing to meet Air’s eyes, so Air sighs, and leans in to bump shoulders with the boy.  “It’s okay.  It’ll be okay,” he tells the boy, even though he feels like he might be lying.  “It’ll be okay.  We’ll go back to the nest, you can lie down in your own bed.  I’ll make some tea…”

“This-this isn’t normal, is it?” Water interrupts, hunched over, his arms wrapped around his stomach.  He still doesn’t look at Air, just stares at the clinic floor.  “This isn’t normal.  There’s something wrong.”

Air stares at his child, and wants to lie.  _Really_ wants to lie.  Instead, he settles for a half-truth.  “It was your first rut.  The first several are difficult.”

Water finally looks at him with that, though it’s with an annoyed expression.  He knows Air is full of shit.

So Air concedes, “No, it’s not—you should be worn out.  Sleeping.”

Water laughs, hysterical.  “I _am_ exhausted,” he says.  “But I hurt.  It hurts.  So bad…”

Air purrs quietly, worry gnawing at his chest, and glances at the bandage over his stomach.  He tells him, “I’m so sorry…”

_I love you, and I would take this from you and suffer myself if I could._

_I’m so sorry…_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much love. <3


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